#and for those who I didn’t tag but want to

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part IX

Summary: Deciding to accept Azriel's offer, Reader's world as they know it is about to change. In more ways than one.

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Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Some suggestions of smut and heavy petting, but nothing too major!

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Azriel stared out of the huge wall-length windows of the River House, watching shadows move in the sunlight that bathed the estate. 

He hadn’t been to bed. 

In the mere hours since he’d left the human realm, leaving Y/N, their conversation and his offer behind…his mind was too crowded to sleep.

So he’d come to the River House, wind still clinging to his skin and clothes from hours of aimlessly flying, and found his family gathering for breakfast.

“Where have you been?” Cassian had asked him.

“Just flying.” Had been Azriel’s explanation. The questioning looks he’d earned in response had told him they all suspected something more was going on with him. 

And how right they were. He didn’t know why he was being cagey, why he couldn’t just be open with them about the human woman who had utterly captivated him—

It was scary, he supposed. To step out of the bubble they had around them, just the two of them.

But if Y/N did agree to come across the Wall with him…it was time to be open, honest.

As if on cue, a kick landed on his shin. Amren. 

“Cassian is supposed to be the absentminded one, shadowsinger,” she drawled. “Are you present?”

Cassian grinned at the jibe. “Someone’s grumpy because she’s hungry. Poor baby.” His eyes slid to Azriel, ignoring Amren’s glare. “Our miniature friend is right, though. What are you daydreaming about?”

Azriel became acutely aware of every present pair of eyes on him. Rhys’s. Feyre’s. Cassian’s and Mor’s, Amren’s and Elain’s. If Nesta had been present, she’d probably have stared, too.

Az cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. Never comfortable with so much attention on him. “There…uh…”

Rhys frowned, realising, at once, that whatever this was held weight. “Az?” he angled his head.

He must have been pale, because Feyre frowned and asked, “Azriel, are you well?”

He didn’t know why he was fumbling this so much. Perhaps because for all he loved his family, for all he’d stared centuries down with them, his feelings were things that he’d always kept tightly locked away, and they had respected that. If he wanted them to know something, they would know. If not, they wouldn’t ask. It was how it had always been.

But this was different.

He was serious about Y/N, and his first step in proving that was to tell those closest to him about her. 

He cleared his throat again, bracing his arms on the table. “There’s something I want you all to know.”

“We all know you have the biggest wingspan, boy,” Amren speared a slice of melon. “It’s hardly breakfast conversation—”

“Amren.” Mor cut her off brusquely. She was staring intently at Az. Could tell this wasn’t the time for jokes. “Go ahead, Az.”

Azriel clenched his fists at his sides. “I…I have fallen for someone,” he swallowed a lump down, far out of his comfort zone. “I’ve fallen in love with someone. A woman. A human woman.”

Silence.

The faces of his family gazed back at him, a mosaic of expressions varying from surprise to confusion to the twitching of baffled amusement. They were waiting for an explanation, or some indication that this was a rare, random joke that Azriel had decided to crack. And Az found that he couldn’t bear them considering that. He squared his shoulders, the severity not moving from his face. 

“Her name his Y/N,” he continued, heart thudding in his chest. “She hails from a village in the human lands, and she’s magnificent. She helps run her father’s inn. She plays piano stunningly…” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. Facts were just spilling from his lips, dumping themselves on his friends. He clamped his lips shut, squeezing his hands together again. 

And once more, silence. 

Until Cassian peered closely at him and stated, “You’re not joking, are you?”

The shadowsinger shook his head. “No.”

Rhysand’s chair creaked as he sat up straight. “Well…how did you meet this woman?”

“When you sent me to the human lands to get an idea of the unrest there. I heard her playing piano late at night and I…I went back to hear more. And I kept going back, despite you telling me not to. I’m sorry for going against your order, Rhys, but I’m not sorry for the reason that I did.”

The High Lord and Lady shared a glance, clearly communicating mind-to-mind. Az wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying. 

Mor cleared her throat, coaxing Az’s eyes to her beautiful face. There was kindness there, warmth. “And you say you love her, Az?”

“I do, Mor. Since I first met her, I’ve fallen harder and harder.” His cheeks burned a furious red. “I can’t deny that that is what I’m feeling. And that’s why I want to share this with you all.” 

The initial shock seemed to dissipate a little as shoulders around the table relaxed. Mor smiled broadly, and Cassian quickly followed. 

“No way,” the Illyrian General chirped. “That’s amazing, Az.”

“We’re happy for you, Az, of course,” Feyre added. “Just a little surprised.”

“You should bring her here to meet us,” Amren grinned, flashing white teeth. “If she can hack it.”

Her remark was as close as she would come to congratulating Azriel — but the sentiment was there, hidden amongst the words. 

Of them all, Elain was the only one who hadn’t spoken.

And Az…Az, for some reason, avoided looking at her. 

“Funny you should say that, Amren,” he quickly said. “I’ve invited her to come here tonight, after she’s closed up the inn. I want her to see Velaris at night, in all its brilliance.”

“So we’ll get to meet her,” Mor grinned wider. “This is great—”

“If—if she’s available to come, that is.” The shadowsinger quickly cut in. 

Because he had to be realistic and still consider the possibility that Y/N would reject his offer. And if that was the case…well, he couldn’t bear to think of it right now. 

He certainly couldn’t bear to share that particular detail with the others. Not just yet. 

“Well,” Rhys offered a smile, “if she is available, we’ll be delighted to meet her, Az. Really.”

“Yes,” Elain’s voice, soft and unconvincing, finally drifted around the table. “We will.” 

At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze drifted to take her in. She looked…shocked. Perhaps a little perturbed. 

But for what reason? She and Lucien were giving things a go. Shouldn’t Azriel be able to do the same?

He tore his eyes away from her, dipping his chin in quiet acknowledgement of her comment. That was all he could offer right then. 

“I hope she comes,” Feyre commented, sipping her drink. Her voice was bright, enthusiastic. 

“So do I,” Azriel agreed. 

Gods, he really did. 

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Ale sloshed over the lip of a tankard, joining the smattering of droplets that were already coating the floor and making it sticky. The rowdy men in your line of sight didn’t seem to notice the mess they were making amidst their rowdiness. They’d been here a good few hours, now. Their eyes had long turned glazed, their speech slurred.

It was all background noise.

Background noise, as you stood behind the bar, staring into space. Time was ticking by, the clock hands crawling steadily closer to when Azriel would arrive and wait for you with hope.

Ten o’clock chimed. Two hours to go. Were you going to join him? You weren’t sure. You’d been contemplating it the entire day, on so few hours sleep. You’d gone through the motions, done your jobs, been that normal, plain young woman who was in charge of The Bluebird Inn. You’d compiled pros and cons in your head, the list of them growing with each thought.

Pros and cons, however, seemed not to come into a situation driven so heavily by desire. 

You wanted to believe Azriel so badly — believe that he was good. Was it so out of the question that such a thing could be the case? It didn’t diminish what you had seen out on the road with your father, but…

But after weeks of no contact, having Azriel close enough to touch last night…it had you hoping, once more, that both things could be true. That the world was not so black and white, and there was colour out there, a world of colour that Azriel could fly you right into—

Before you realised what you were doing, your hand was grasping the bell behind the bar. You tugged at the rope, causing a distinct ringing to cut through the arrogant raucous of the men. 

“Last orders!” you called. 

Every pair of eyes swivelled to blink at you. “What?” One man asked.

“Last orders,” you repeated. 

“But it’s only ten o’clock! You don’t close until midnight!”

It was an effort not to roll your eyes. This group had been here since they’d stumbled in from their day’s work. The idea of cutting their drinking short was inconceivable to them.

But you were going. You were going to join Azriel, and go across the Wall, and experience things you’d never experienced, whether it was a good idea or not.

“I’m closing early tonight,” you gave a shrug. 

The brute that had been spilling ale all over the floor gaped at you. “Why?”

Good question. You couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, and if this was going to get back to your father, you at least needed a valid excuse—

“I’m unwell,” you tried unconvincingly. “Sorry.”

Swine-like eyes narrowed on you. “You don’t look unwell, girl.”

“…It’s my cycle.”

A silent pause. And then, in an instant, every man in the room was on his feet. You tried not to smile in triumph; it worked every time.

They couldn’t leave quick enough, as though, if you truly were on your cycle, it was somehow contagious. You saw the last customer out of the door and bolted it shut. Waited until their chatter disappeared into the distance before you turned and began a frantic cleanup mission. 

This was…mad. Truly, thrillingly mad. A reckoning of sorts, you imagined, because crossing that boundary from one realm into another was like sealing a fate. There was no coming back from this — this, that was not merely dipping your toe into the world of the fae, but submerging yourself in it, taking a deep gulp of air and disappearing beneath its surface. A nerve-wracking prospect, but…also an exciting one.

And didn’t it prove to you that you still trusted Azriel at least a little? You had to, surely, to be so willing to take his hand and let him pull you into the unknown. 

Perhaps…perhaps you were tired of having that little bit of doubt. Tired of wondering what might be out there, beyond your meagre existence. This trip would surely put those doubts to bed, one way or another. 

Two hours until Azriel’s arrival seemed both too much time and not enough at all. You filled it with your usual closing duties, making quick work of tidying up and making sure the inn was spotless. Afterwards, you would ordinarily spend some time at the piano, or simply retire to bed. Tonight, your feet carried you upstairs to get ready. 

You combed your hair and changed your outfit choice too many times, not once recognising the girl who stared back at you in the mirror. She was somebody bold and daring — somebody willing to question what she’d always known. 

And you wanted to be her, no matter the fears twisting your stomach. 

Once ready, there wasn’t much time left to wait. You quelled your nerves by knocking back a glass of whiskey and welcoming the burn. Your eyes stayed on the clock. Eleven-thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty-five. 

When you heard the distant chimes of the village clock announcing midnight, you felt that familiar sensation of awareness. Like an ember under your skin, it burned, and it spread. 

You wiped whiskey from your lips and slipped out of the door, stepping into the courtyard. You were cold, despite the warm night. 

And even colder when you felt the gust of air that came from a descending figure, landing feather-light in front of you. 

Azriel was almost too beautiful to bear. 

You stared at him with an intensity you couldn’t keep a lid on. And he stared back at you, took in your shirt and breeches, your braided back hair, your shoes. He clocked within a second that you were dressed to go out — a breath of relief forced its way out of him. 

“You’re coming?” he breathed, and then shook his head, seeming to remember his manners. “Sorry. Hello.”

You swallowed. “Hello.”

He paused. Dared a step closer. “I half expected to find you in your nightgown. Or to not see you at all.”

“I…contemplated it. Not coming, I mean.”

Another step. “And what tipped the scales in my favour?”

You sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent. He was close enough to touch, now, and the smell of wind mixed with his natural aroma, creating a dizzying concoction that, for a moment, had you forgetting how to speak. 

You shook yourself out of it, blinking a few times. “I think I’m tired. Tired of…only knowing what I’ve been told. I think it’s time I saw things for myself.”

Azriel’s broad shoulders seemed to relax a little. A beat passed of heavy silence, heavy eye contact. He stared at you like you were the only person left in the entire world. 

And then you jolted just a little, as cold, scarred fingers touched yours in a light, tentative brush. He waited to see if you would pull away. 

You didn’t. 

Those fingers explored more. Wrapped around yours. Laced with yours. And then Azriel was holding your hand in his. 

“Let me share my world with you,” he whispered.

Maybe it was the weight of his hand, or maybe the raw pleading in his tone. Whatever it was…you knew you didn’t need any more time to consider. 

“Yes.” Was all you managed to respond. “Yes.”

Just like that, Azriel was yanking you closer, pulling your body flush to his. You waited to feel your feet leave the ground, for him to lift you into the air. 

It took you a moment to register that his arms were winding around you tightly in an embrace. That it was a hug he’d so fiercely pulled you into. 

He held you, both firmly and gently, his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. You were stunned, stiff as a statue — but then you were sinking into his hold and welcoming its security, its…passion.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Azriel murmured, pulling back to gaze at you. “Truly — thank you. For trusting me with this.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” you pointed out. “I just want to see for myself…if what you’re saying is true.”

But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn’t that simple. Heading across the Wall with Azriel was sealing a fate far bigger than you’d stopped to consider. Whether you were ready for it was anyone’s guess.

The shadowsinger took your words in his stride, nodding. His hand found yours again. “Shall we go?”

You were really doing this. The idea made your head spin. 

But you did not pull away. You did not run back inside, no matter how much a tiny part of you screamed at you to do so. Perhaps you were stronger than that now. 

“Yes,” you nodded, and braced yourself. “We shall.”

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Flying was precisely as you remembered — exhilarating and terrifying and cold. The night sky eddied past you in a star-streaked blur, and you were soaring, hurtling forwards towards a world unknown. 

You and Azriel did not speak. He seemed content to leave you in your thoughts, though you felt his gaze on you more than once, drinking you in. You couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Whether he deliberately chose to press you firmly against him and rub soothing circles into the small of your back, or whether it was a subconscious thing. 

You closed your eyes at one point, focusing on the feeling of the chilled wind on your face. 

But it was another feeling that had you suddenly alert. Opening your eyes again. 

It was hard to explain, but…something like a staticky charge crackled and sparked. You knew that the Wall was not a physical thing to behold, but rather an invisible barrier…yet somehow, you knew that was what you were feeling. Like a huge sign in bold, screaming at you: TURN BACK. DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER.

“I can feel it, too,” Azriel spoke into your ear, as though he’d read your thoughts. It was the first words that had left him since he’d carried you to the skies, and they were soothing and warm against you. “It’s the magic. Those who built the Wall abhorred the idea of humans and fae alike crossing over. I think the feeling it offsets is supposed to repel people.”

You held onto him a little tighter as the feeling grew stronger. “Clearly it doesn’t work.”

“No.” His eyes found yours. “Not when there are such enticing reasons to cross.”

You were thankful that the wind put a stop to the furious blush that crept up your neck. You stared forward, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you, and you knew that you were about delve into another realm. 

“Ready?” he murmured, before that charge thrust its way through your body like a bolt of lightning. 

It was brief and yet nauseating. Your stomach lurched, your head spinning. And then, as if clearing fog, it was gone. You had the distinct feeling of being someplace completely alien — a place where the grass was greener, the scents richer. A place where magic was the blood in its veins, snaking through the ground beneath you and breathing vibrant life into the land. 

But you had barely a chance to take in your surroundings before Azriel was coaxing your eyes back to him. 

“Now that we’re in Prythian,” he said, seeming to visibly relax, “I’ll winnow us from here.”

You gave the briefest glance to your surroundings — a forest so like the many in the human realm, and yet also something more. The thrum of dangerous life seemed to lurk just beneath its surface, and with the moon bearing down on you, you didn’t much like the idea of waiting around to see what might emerge from the dark. You dipped your head into a nod, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you. 

But before he could make a move, you were speaking, stopping him in his tracks. “There’s something I don’t understand.”

He paused, head angling curiously. It made a few dark hairs slide across his forehead, and the urge to reach out and touch the silken strands was a burning one. 

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You want to show me your home, but why show me at night time, when the world is asleep?” Besides the fact that this was the only time you could sneak away from the prying eyes of villagers.

But Azriel’s mouth seemed to lift into a subtle, beautiful smile. One that was telling — but telling of what?

“Velaris does not sleep,” he said, and then you were disappearing into starlight.

A brief burst of darkness that lurched you from place to another. The feeling of both flying and falling, of being nowhere and everywhere all at once. And then your feet were suddenly on solid ground. 

You didn’t realise you’d closed your eyes until the sounds hit you first. Distant music, mingled with crisp laughter. The sounds of enjoyment, fulfilment. You snapped your gaze open to put a picture to what you were hearing. 

You went so preternaturally still, you could almost be mistaken as fae. 

You must have been perched upon a viewpoint, to see the city in its entirety like this — but not too far up to miss the details. Restaurants teeming with activity both inside and out front, gatherings of customers who talked and smiled and laughed without a care in the world. Vendors selling their wares despite the late hour, peddling anything from food to wooden carvings to flowers. People wrapped in each other’s arms and dancing merrily to a song that a young female strummed on a lute in the busy street. 

If not for the dark blanket of stars above your head, you could be forgiven for thinking it was daytime. Your shoddy little village was never this bright nor light, no matter the hour on the clock.

This was Velaris, and it truly did not sleep.

You stared and stared and stared, for so long that your vision began to blur and smear the lights below into swirling shapes. It was almost easy to forget you were alone, just you observing this beautiful, seemingly perfect world. But a hand touched your arm.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Azriel asked, coaxing you to look at him.

Such palpable hope sat within his gaze that you couldn’t bear to look away. And when you nodded your agreement, that hope shifted into damn near elation.

The city seemed to welcome you into its arms as you began a slow stroll right through the heart of it. Azriel gave you your space, always remaining a few paces away. You could have sworn, in your periphery, that you caught him clenching his hands now and then, as though he didn’t know what to do with them. As though all he wanted was to reach out to you.

But he left you to acquaint yourself with the sights and sounds and sensations of Velaris. Never had you been amongst so many fae, and you half expected them to sniff out your mortality, to turn and stare or even make a grab for you. If they noticed you were not one of them, they paid it no mind, barely casting you a glance. Some of them greeted Azriel cheerily as they made merry and socialised. Not a drop of misery seemed to taint the blood of this living, pulsing place. 

You came to a stop on a grand bridge that arched over a glinting river, its waters stretching further out than your human vision could comprehend. Only a moment after you leaned against the carved balustrade, Azriel was emerging in your peripheral vision, stopping beside you and mirroring your stance. 

You could feel his gaze on you. And after a moment, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

A slow, stunned shake of your head was all you could manage. That was a question that had many different answers. You weren’t sure which one to give. 

But you found yourself turning to him, your brow pinched, lips parted. “I don’t understand how any of this works. What…what is this place?”

Velaris, obviously — you knew that much. But was the entire fae realm like this? Was this what had been hiding on the other side of the Wall in the centuries since it was established?

Azriel seemed to think on your question for a moment, combing through his answer. He angled his body towards yours, the way his hands twisted around each other hinting that he was…nervous.

“When I took you flying the first time, I mentioned that Prythian is divided into seven courts,” he explained slowly. “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day and Night. Do you remember what else I told you?”

How could you forget? You’d turned it over in your mind enough that the words had begun to fray at the seams. 

“You said you’re from the Night Court. That you’re part of the High Lord’s inner circle. You’re his spymaster.” Your gaze swept around. “So this is the Night Court.”

Azriel dipped his chin. “It is. But it’s a city in the Night Court. A secret, guarded city. There’s more out there than just this.”

“Secret and guarded? Why?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you that felt as long as the winding bridge. You found yourself focusing on the ebb and flow of the water beneath you, watching its languid dance. Until warm fingers landed on your arm.

The touch — tentative and gentle — coaxed your gaze back to Azriel. You studied him, drank in the sincerity and openness on his face. This was hard for him, you realised — to be so forward, to bare all. He was, perhaps, as guarded and secretive as this city itself. Perhaps more. 

But his soft hazel eyes told you that he wanted to push through that difficulty. For you.

“It’s secret and guarded,” he answered huskily, “because it is beautiful and good, and the entirety of the Night Court is not. The entirety of Prythian is not. There are other places like this, of vibrancy and love and light, and then there are places of pure, evil darkness. Places that I would never dream of you venturing. They exist as truly as the good places do. As Velaris does.”

Once again, your eyes took in the area around you. On the other side of the bridge, a couple were hunched over a table, in their own world, sharing quiet words and quick kisses. A few buildings down, a group of friends roared with laughter as they spilled out of the door, arms around each other and happiness on their faces.

This place was beautiful. It was…life. 

And the existence of darker places did not change that, did not steal its essence. Good and bad both simply existed. In people, and in places. 

Just like in the human lands. 

Just like Azriel had been trying to tell you all along. 

“There’s good and bad everywhere…” you murmured quietly, the words sinking in, hitting home. How could you deny it when the people here clearly were not scared, not running and screaming and begging for their lives?

There was movement, and you felt Azriel’s side press against yours. “There is.”

And you could see it now, like a fog had been lifted. But there was still one pressing question that plagued you. One you couldn’t tamp down on as you angled yourself towards Azriel proper.

“Why bother, though?” you asked, studying him. “Why go to these lengths to prove this to me? You don’t owe me anything. Why…why would you bother taking the time to make me see this?”

Azriel gazed back at you, something burning in his eyes. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to force his words back down, trying to stop them spilling out. 

A fight he ultimately lost. 

“Because I am selfish,” he said, staring at you fiercely. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to see you anymore. Of you thinking I’m a monster. I would not care if anyone else were to think so, but…”

“…but what?”

“But not my Bluebird.” His voice was raw, raspy. He reached out cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not my Blue.”

A breath shuddered out of you, and with it went your resolve. You knew you could no longer fight what been pressing you for a while, now. Could no longer deny what was right in front of you. 

You cleared your throat, feeling the shivers that pulsed through your skin with Azriel’s hand still hovering so close to it. So badly, you wanted to lean into it. But you forced your gaze back to the brilliant city of Velaris. 

“Life seems so lovely here,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly hoarse. 

“It is,” Azriel concurred. “It really is. And you, Y/N…you deserve loveliness.”

You stared fiercely at the water, begging yourself not to get choked up. You’d never had loveliness. 

A warm, comforting hand pressed against the small of your back. You shamelessly allowed it to. 

“Would you like to meet my family?” the shadowsinger asked.

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You were going to be sick — and not from the flying.

Your feet touched down on a beautiful, ornate estate — grass trimmed and decorated with fountains, ornaments, decorative hedges. Trees and obscure plants and beautiful flowers. Never had you been anywhere so grand. 

And before you — a huge, stunning house of pillars, winding staircases, giant windows and just…pure opulence. It intimidated you just to look at. 

“This is…this is where they live? Your…High Lord and High Lady?” The words felt foreign on your tongue. 

“It is.” As Azriel stepped up to your side, you realised his arm was still wrapped around you. “Did I ever tell you she used to be human — my High Lady?”

Your gaze shot to him in a flash. “What? How is that possible?”

“It’s a long, elaborate story that I’ll allow her to tell you, when she feels like it. But it’s true — she and her two sisters were once human, and they were all turned fae.” 

A thought that set your heart thudding at a gallop. Had they once been lowly village girls, like you were? You hadn’t considered that you might have anything in common with these people.

“Shall we?” Azriel’s arm tightened around you, and you welcomed it. You needed the grounding comfort.

With a deep breath and a nod, you allowed yourself to be led up the broad stone steps that trailed up to the mammoth front entrance. You followed Azriel’s lead, wide-eyed as he opened the front door like it was his home, also, and led you inside. 

The interior was, unsurprisingly, as decadent as the exterior, but you found yourself too nervous to take in any details beyond polished marble flooring and huge, painted portraits that hung on the wall of beautiful beings. You did, however, stop to take in the portrait that was undoubtedly Azriel. 

“Feyre — our High Lady — is an artist.” Azriel stopped beside you. “She painted all of these.”

“And a damn excellent artist, too.” Behind you, a voice of pure, cloaked night echoed through the giant room. It added with a hint of glimmering humour, “Not that I’m biased, of course.”

You turned at once, knowing that such a voice could never come from a human. Your heart almost stopped at the sight of the male who leaned against a carved arch, and you blushed furiously at the thought that he could probably hear such a thing. 

He certainly resembled Azriel, in his golden skin and dark hair. But his eyes were of a stark, peculiar shade — violet — and his ears very much pointed. Something about the smug ease with which he stood screamed at you that this — this was the High Lord of the Night Court, looking regal in a black button-up shirt and dark trousers. 

And beside him, a woman — female — of such otherworldly beauty, it was hard to imagine that her golden-brown hair and blue eyes had ever been dulled by mortality. 

“He is biased,” she said with a soft smile, fondness in her eyes. She drank in the sight of you, and there was no judgement, no disapproval — just simple curiosity. “Y/N. Welcome to our home.” 

“This is Rhysand and Feyre,” Azriel explained beside you. “High Lord and High Lady.”

“Rhysand?” The High Lord echoed jovially. “You sound like Feyre when she tells me off. Just Rhys will do,” he sketched you a flourishing bow, “and as my beautiful mate said — welcome to our home.”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t know the customs, where greeting a High Lord or Lady is concerned,” you cleared your throat. “But thank you for having me.”

Feyre smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. Shall we get a drink? The others are waiting.”

Your stomach turned with nerves, but you nodded. As Azriel stepped forward, falling into stride with Rhysand, Feyre stayed behind, turning to you. 

“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” she smiled at you gently. “I had already been turned fae when I first came here, but…I can’t imagine coming here as a human who’s never had much to do with our kind.”

Our kind. Clearly her mortal roots were but a distant memory. 

“It is,” you agreed. “This is…hugely out of my comfort zone.”

“Just stick with me, Y/N. But you have nothing to worry about.” Her smile grew. “We’re all just happy that Azriel has found someone. Even Elain.”

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Even Elain. What the hell did that even mean?

It stuck in your mind as you held yourself through introductions, your curiosity such that you were waiting for an Elain to be introduced to. But through the names that were thrown at you — Cassian, Amren, Morrigan, Nesta — that one did not come up. 

The tiny Amren was terrifying despite her small stature, and yet you found her quick wit and remarks to be personable. Morrigan — Mor — had invited you to sit with her the second the introductions were over, and she seemed almost…excited by your presence. Cassian was jovial, warm, quickly making it clear that he would joke and banter with you as much as he would with his family. 

Ironic, then, that the least forthcoming with any warmth was Nesta — who surely could relate to your humanity, even if her own was long gone. 

She’d barely spoken to you beyond a terse greeting. And since then, she’d stared you down from the other end of the table. You couldn’t help noticing that her eyes continuously darted to the round edges of your ears. You couldn’t read the ferocity in her gaze.

It was an effort to ignore it as conversation bloomed around the table.

“So he was just hovering above your inn like a little creep?” Cassian’s broad grin was savage, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he plied you with questions. “You should have shot him down with an arrow. Taught him a lesson.”

Your lips twitched as you answered, “Somebody else saw to that. I just ended up helping him.”

“Boo.” The Illyrian warrior snorted. “How boring.”

Beside you, Azriel rolled his eyes, but a soft smile played on his lips that told you he rather enjoyed the teasing. You couldn’t help relaxing at the…normality of it all. How easy and light and warm this conversation was.

How naive you had been, to assume that the fae were simply cold, severe beings. The furthest thing from this loving family unit. It didn’t even seem to be a bizarre circumstance to them, that they had been gathered to meet at such a late hour. If not for the huge windows letting the night sky in, you’d be forgiven for thinking that their energy and enthusiasm was indicative of day time.

“From which village do you hail, Y/N?” Feyre asked you, sipping from her wine. You’d tried not to stare too long at the casual intimacy between the High Lord and Lady — the little touches you so naturally wanted to mimic with the male beside you. She added, “Perhaps Nesta and I would have heard of it.”

At that, Nesta lifted her chin a little. You could have sworn a glimmer of curiosity streaked through her eyes, there and gone in an instant.

“Northern Swancross.” You answered, eyes darting around the opulent dining room. “It isn’t anything grand. “Most of its residents are living in poverty.”

Feyre sipped her drink, offering an understanding nod. “Perhaps too far north for us. I don’t recognise the name—”

“I do,” Nesta said sharply — the first time she’d really spoken to you. “I remember reading a pamphlet once, about fae attacks on human villages. Northern Swancross was named in regards to an attack there a couple of decades ago.”

Silence and stillness filled the space that conversation had lit up moments before. Your mouth went dry. You felt the cool touch of a shadow caressing your arm.

“That would have been my mother,” you answered, clearing your throat. 

Nesta stared at you a long moment, a slither of what seemed to be…solidarity…seeping through the cracks of her icy reception. She lowered her chin in the slightest of dips, and somehow, you knew exactly what that minute gesture communicated. We have both suffered at the hands of the fae. And yet, somehow, here we both are.

“That’s awful,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the moment, quiet and laced with sympathy. “I’m sorry for the loss of your mother. We all are.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“Nesta, Elain and I also lost our mother,” Feyre supplied. “To illness, rather than to the fae. But we understand what the loss of a parent is like. Many of us here do.”

A kind and heartbreaking sentiment, and yet all you could focus on was the mention of that name again. Elain. She must have been the third sister. 

You didn’t know why you felt such preying curiosity about her standing in this group…or her standing with Azriel, and why her support for his happiness was a thing Feyre felt was worth mentioning. You couldn’t stop yourself wondering if her absence was a deliberate thing. 

As if she’d read that thought, Feyre cleared her throat. “You’ll have to forgive Elain’s absence. She’s not much of a night owl.”

“Despite living in the Night Court,” Cassian added, and his booming chuckle at once chased away the tension that had seeped into the room. He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. “So tell us more about you, Y/N.”

You did exactly that — and found yourself peculiarly willing to do so. Such a sheltered life you’d lived with no one to truly call a friend, that it now seemed that years of pent-up conversation came flooding out of you. And as hours ticked by, pedalling closer towards morning, you found yourself relaxing, forgetting that you were human and they were fae. They were just…people. Kind, good people. 

And in turn for the information you shared with them, they told you about themselves, answered your questions, explained things you didn’t understand. Mor spoke to you like she’d known you for years rather than minutes. Even Nesta’s reservedness began to thin into something more cordial. One-by-one, the High Lord’s Inner Circle pulled you into its fold as if a place for you had been carved there for a very long time. 

They did not balk — not even a little — at the idea of you being of worth in Azriel’s life. 

Azriel himself was largely quiet throughout the night. He seemed to take a backseat and allow you to navigate this situation as you saw fit, only interjecting with comments and responses every now and then. But at your side, he remained a solid, steadfast presence, his shadows a thing of comfort. And the urge to lean against him as the night wore on was a pressing, growing one. 

You didn’t want to resist anymore. Didn’t want to take a step backwards. You’d seen what he’d wanted to show you, and there were no more weak excuses you could come up with as to why your involvement with Azriel was a bad idea.

You wanted him…and you were done denying yourself him. 

It was only when the night drew to a close that you began to feel the tiredness waiting on the edges of your mind. Nesta was the first to leave, and soon after that, everyone else was standing and saying their goodbyes. 

“You’ll come back soon?” Feyre asked you, her hands squeezing yours. She seemed genuinely thrilled that Azriel had brought you here. 

You glanced at the shadowsinger beside you, a smile playing on your lips. “If he’s willing to bring me.”

A soft, low chuckle sounded in Azriel’s chest. But there was nothing comical about the way he promised, “Whenever you want.”

Bidding the High Lord and Lady goodnight, you descended the front steps with a lightness that you hadn’t felt upon arrival. Tonight had been…easy. Simple. There was nothing more to it than merely getting to know Azriel’s friends. Getting to know Azriel’s world.

And when the doors closed behind you, it was just you and him alone, for the first time in hours. 

He strolled at your side, back through the opulent front garden. Neither of you seemed to know who would speak first.

Until you turned to him and said, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Az stared back at you, pausing for the slightest of moments. “To the River House?”

“And to Velaris. To…to Prythian.” You, too, paused. “To the truth, I suppose.”

His chin dipped just slightly. “You deserve the truth.”

A few paces forward, you walked in silence. It wasn’t until you were under the canopy of a huge, overhanging tree that you pressed your back against the trunk and allowed yourself to stare at him. Properly stare at him. To take in his beauty.

He stopped a few steps away, asking, “What?”

So many things you wanted to say. I’m done fighting this. I’m done fighting us. I want to dive further into this world with you. I want you, Azriel, whatever the hell that means for me—

“Who is Elain?” The words spilled, unplanned and undignified, from your lips. Your eyes shuttered for a moment as you regained your composure. “I mean…I know who she is. I know she’s Feyre’s and Nesta’s sister. I just mean…who is she…to you?”

Azriel was still for a moment, his brow pinching slightly. He took a step closer. “She’s…a friend.”

“…just a friend?”

“I…I won’t deny that I wondered, at one time, if she might be more than that.” His scent hit you as he continued to step closer. “But she has a mate. And I wondered that before…before I met you.”

The bark of the tree bit into your back as you held yourself firmly, grounding yourself in the moment. You inhaled a small breath, trying to ignore the dizziness that his general proximity seemed to provoke. But as he stepped closer still, now mere inches from you, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. 

Still, you lifted your chin and stared up at him. Stared, as he closed the gap between your two bodies and pressed you further against that tree, his body seeming to line perfectly with yours despite your height difference. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned into your ear. 

“Were you worried about that, Blue?” he asked huskily, a smile in his voice. 

You couldn’t control the way your breath hitched in your throat. Lie, save face, deny it, your mind screamed at you. You weren’t sure you currently had the mental capacity to do so. 

“You said you’ve had lovers,” you rasped back. “I was just wondering if, perchance, Elain had been one of them.”

A mix of both relief and disappointment filled you as Azriel pulled back — not far, but simply enough to stare sincerely into your eyes. His face was open and soft, despite the teasing that had been in his tone. 

“No.” His tone was a promise. “Elain has never been my lover. I don’t…I don’t want you to worry about that. About her.”

Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. But as your gaze began to lower from his, his hand was suddenly at your face, cupping your jaw, holding your attention firmly on him. 

“It’s been a long, heavy night for you,” he murmured, studying you closely. “I want you to tell me honestly how you’re feeling.”

Perhaps the most loaded question he could have asked. You swallowed, slowly shaking your head. “I…I’m feeling lots of things. Relief…that what you told me about this place was true. Shame…that I was obstinate in my ignorance—”

“You do not need to feel one bit of shame. There are always two sides of the coin—”

“And fear. I feel scared.”

Your words lingered between the two of you, truthful and unwavering. They were out in the open, now. You found yourself not wanting to keep them to yourself.

“I feel scared,” you repeated, “because I have nothing to hide behind, now. I can’t run and deny what I feel. You’ve shown me the truth, and I…I can no longer deny my own.”

His hand still cupping your face, Azriel brushed his thumb over your cheek. His eyes remained fully trained on you, not willing to look away for a second.

“There is no going back from this night,” you whispered, staring back at him. “And I’m glad about that. But I’m also so scared.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel scared. Not with me.” His hushed words, spoken quietly for your ears only, landed on your lips. “I just want to make you happy, Blue.”

It took a moment for you to realise that the soft noise that sounded — a small cry of both relief and need — came from you. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You were done with resisting. 

Your hand cupped the back of Azriel’s head, and you pulled it down, slanting your mouth over his. At once, he hummed against your lips and moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer against him. 

This was everything. Azriel was everything. He just wanted to make you happy, and you wanted to make him happy, too. He was not fae or a shadowsinger or a huge, imposing figure with wings. He was just Azriel. Your Azriel. Your salvation. 

The male you were so, so glad to have been proved wrong about. The male you were falling in love with. 

Your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, and he parted them for you, allowing you to dip inside. At once, his taste mingled with yours, and you moaned softly, your hands grasping at him, wanting to feel him against you as you kissed him harder, fiercer. 

And he kissed you back just as ferociously. You may have been inexperienced, but you knew the taste of desire on his tongue, and you knew exactly what you were feeling when he hardened against you, his arms banded around you. 

“Blue,” he broke away, panting. His eyes were glazed as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “We’re getting carried away. Tell me what you want. I need to know what you want.”

Him. All of him. Every single inch of him.

Your eyes trailed down to the hardness that was unmistakably outlined through his leathers. Such stark hunger bolted through you that it sent shivers coursing down your spine. Had wetness pooling between your legs. 

And from the way Azriel’s nostrils flared, and a deep, guttural noise vibrated in his chest, you could only guess that he’d scented it. 

You pushed up onto your toes, brushing another kiss to your mouth. A light one that he seemed ready to get lost in, before you were pulling away, your eyes clashing with his again.

“I want you to take me back to my home,” you told him breathlessly, your fingers biting into his leathers. “And I want you to stay.”

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Not one bit of the journey was memorable. Not the flight back to the Wall, or that brief flash of darkness as you were winnowed from there, right back into the taproom at the Bluebird Inn.

Your only focus was on Azriel. The feel of his body pressed against yours, and how…how it would feel even better when you both rid yourself of clothing.

And gods, you were nervous. But you could feel in your very bones — you were ready.

This night had, indeed, been a reckoning. This night had, indeed, changed things forever, and made you realise that you had no good reason to deny yourself of the brilliant fae male who consumed your every thought.

You trusted Azriel. You wanted Azriel.

And when both your feet and his touched the wooden flooring of the inn, your eyes clashed only momentarily with his before you were pulling his face down to kiss you. And kiss you, he did. 

It was hot and greedy and desperate, a kiss that could wait no longer. He made a low noise against your mouth, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards and pressed you against the bar. It was tongue and touching and too many clothes, and you were done waiting, done thinking, as you dragged a trembling hand down the firm feel of his leathers, down and down until you were cautiously folding your palm over the bulge in his pants. 

You had no idea what exactly you were doing, but the way Azriel gasped against your lips seemed to be a positive reaction. One that only spurred you on further. 

Even without properly seeing him, you could tell he was huge. Your hand barely fit over what pressed through his breeches. You explored the length of him, wishing that clothes weren’t in the way. That it was just skin on skin. 

Azriel let out a choked moan — one that seemed pleasurable. Until he pulled away.

“Wait, Blue,” he panted, staring down at you. “Just…tell me you’re sure.”

You had gone past sure. Sure wasn’t a strong enough word. Sure was nothing against the certainty that roared in your veins.

“I am,” you promised, applying pressure with your hand. “Show me…show me what to do, Azriel.”

It was a pure, animalistic growl that broke from him then, and in one swift movement, he was lifting you up and carrying you over to the bar, perching you atop and slotting himself between your legs. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he kissed you. Kissed you again. Kissed you harder. “I promise, my bluebird.”

“Please,” you begged softly, grasping at his leathers. “I want you.”

Kisses deepened, turned more ferocious. Hands wandered, began roaming, exploring. You felt the cautious touch of a hand gliding over your breast, warm fingers permeating your shirt. You gasped, arching into the touch. 

Perhaps that was why you didn’t hear it. Perhaps you were so distracted, so hungry for the male before you, that the quiet footsteps that approached were heard by neither of you. Not even by Azriel’s fae senses, his shadows. 

No, you were both oblivious until a cold, stern voice filled the room. 

“Y/N?” Devin stood against the doorframe, not taking his eyes off Azriel’s giant form. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

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bluebird tags: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers @happywolves81 @anama-cara @spideytingley @raccooninurwalls @despoinasstuff @ntimacy @brekkershadowsinger @ariaaira @lesehexe @aunicornmademedoit @fauxdette @moonlight-kr @sekiro1310 @fightmedraco @astarlitsoul @quinzzelx

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him | Satoru Gojo [ch.02]

short series

Summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

Tags of the series: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, masturbation, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n

Words chapter: 4,4k

Notes: I can’t believe the amount of support the first chapter got, it’s truly unbelievable. The series will most likely be 4 chapters and a epilogue. And to be honest the name of the fic is nothing like the song (well a bit yes) but in Taylor’s song she says that her father loves him but here he doesn’t, they hate Satoru.

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Two days had passed since the party where Duke Gojo had asked for your hand in marriage and since then he had established himself in your house. Your parents had hated the idea and had let you know as soon as the party ended. You had to wear long-sleeved dresses to hide the bruises that had appeared on your arms. And you had barely left your room in those two days due to the intense pain in your legs caused by the blows that night.

At first the idea of ​​marrying Duke Gojo had seemed extremely frightening and crazy to you, but now you believed that it was the only escape you could have.

You haven’t seen Duke Gojo in those two days, but you knew he was in the house, because Rose has told you about the handsome Duke that was staying there.

You heard some knocks on your door and left the book you had in your hands.

“Come in.” You said walking away from the window.

You were expecting to see Rose or any other of the maids, what you were not expecting was to see Duke Gojo entering your room. A flush waved through your body as you realized you were just wearing a light dress that barely covered your body. I didn't expect the duke to come visit you, the only visits you expected were from your maids. That was why you had put on that light dress.

“Angel.” He said with a smirk crossing his face. “Were you waiting for me?” He said, closing the door behind his back and resting himself on it.

“Duke… I wasn’t expecting you to come to my room.” Your voice sounded almost as a whispered.

He chuckled and moved himself around the room. “I thought I was going to be able to see my future wife more if I stayed here but it seemed it was not the case.” He sat down on the sofa you had in your bedroom.

“I was sick.” You lied, you could not tell him what your parents did to you or else the family’s reputation would decline. “And I could not…”

“Show them to me, angel.” He stood up and with a few steps, he positioned himself in front of you.

“Duke what are you…?” Your words were left hanging in the air when the Duke held your wrist making you wince due to the bruises you still had.

“Was it them?” He muttered in a cold and angry tone. You denied, you couldn't tell the truth or then the punishment would be worse. “Angel, look me in the eyes.” Hesitating you looked at him and curiously you felt protection. “I will ask you again… was it them?”

Feeling your heart beating faster, you murmured. “Yes…” You saw something in him flicking and his eyes turning darker. “Duke please, don’t do anything.” You held to him, reading his intentions.

You didn’t know that man and you didn’t know what he was able to do, but seeing his gaze you could read he was capable of doing terrible things.

“Angel, you want me to let it be?” He held your gaze.

“Yes, please.” You whispered the last part. “If… if I get marry to you, I will be able to leave this place and not see them again.”

He chuckled and tilted your head. “So you are going to use me as your getaway?”

It sounded bad, but he was your best option and maybe your only option. “Yes.”

“I’m hurt. But alright angel.” He sat back down. “But you know they are against this marriage and besides, didn’t you tell me you wanted to marry someone out of love, and as far as I know you don’t love me, right?”

“No.” You looked down. “But maybe…”

“I will change that.” He took your hand and he pulled it, causing you to sit on his lap.

An extreme embarrassment took hold in you as you realized the position you were both in and as your dress had risen to your knees, the Duke placed his hands on your hips and squeezed them lightly. Your legs tensed and the heat you had felt in your lower abdomen resurfaced.

“Duke, this is not…” You tried to free yourself.

“It’s embarrassing for you angel?” He got closer to you. “You know once we are married, we will be doing a lot of things together right?” He whispered close to your mouth.

You swallowed harshly and looked away from his gaze. “But I don't think it's appropriate…”

“Don’t worry angel, we won’t be doing anything yet.” He said touching your leg up and down.

The inner heat began to grow in you and the way he looked at you was almost addictive. You wanted to get off her lap, but at the same time you wanted him to continue giving you the caresses he was giving you.

The duke smiled and buried his face in your neck. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you duke.” You whispered surprised for the sudden comment.

“Call me Satoru.” He said.

He looked up to you and you felt how your body reacted to his gaze, for a moment you swore you felt butterflies dancing around, almost as if you were reading one of your romantic novels. But a knock on your door made you stand up faster than anything.

“Yes?” You tried to sound as normal as possible, although your body was shaken.

“My lady, it’s me.” Rose spoke on the other side. “Your parents want you to have lunch with them and Duke Gojo, so you can discuss some matters.”

“Alright, I will be ready soon.” You looked at the duke, who was peacefully sat on the couch.

“If you need anything my lady, please call me.”

“Don’t worry.” You heard her leave and walked to the duke. “Duke I think you should leave, if someone sees you here they might think wrongly.”

“I was just here visiting my future wife.” He kissed your hand. “But I will leave, to let you change. Although I would love to see you change in front of me.”

The heat was all over you once again, making you feel weak. If the duke was able to get you like that with simple words, What would happen once you consummated the marriage. Red took over your face and with clumsy steps you walked away from him. After a few seconds you heard how the door to your room opened and closed, you had been left alone again but this time with a whirlwind of emotions sailing inside you.

After a few minutes Rose entered your room and started helping you dress properly. The words you wanted to speak to Rose were stuck in your throat, you knew Rose was married to her love childhood and probably had experienced intimacy, she was also older than you. She was your closest to and the person you trusted the most.

“Rose…” You whispered while she was stroking your hair.

“Yes my lady?” You saw her smile in the mirror.

“How is it to be intimate…” You held your hands nervously. “I mean… now that I might get married to the duke I will have to be ready and…”

Rose slightly laughed at your comment. “Haven’t you read enough erotic books to know about it?”

You blushed. “They… are romantic… not erotic.” You defended yourself.

“My lady, you probably know enough, you don’t have to worry so much.”

“But what if… if he thinks I’m bad at it?”

“Not everyone is born learning, we learn with the time. Once the moment comes you will learn and be better at it.” She brushed your hair.

“But… he probably has more experience than I do.” You said. “God he even sat me on his lap this morning and he didn’t flinch.” You said that without realizing you were supposed to hide the fact the duke came.

“The duke came here?” She said with a surprise look on her face.

Rose's penetrating gaze looked at you waiting for a response. “He did… Please don’t tell my parents.” You turned to look better at her. “They will scold me and who knows what else they will do if they find out the duke has come to my room.”

Rose shook her head and warmly smiled at you. “I won’t say a single word to them, don’t worry. Now smile, you look absolutely beautiful my lady.”

You turned back up and looked at yourself in the mirror, you indeed looked beautiful. With a shy smile appearing on your lips, you thanked Rose and exited your room. With your head tilted up, you walked straight to the room where you were going to have a meal with your parents and the duke.

Your heart raised once again, at the mere thought of his presence and remembering his sense embracing your body. That sensation on your chest and body began to take over you. But you shook those feelings away when you stood in front of the door.

Touching the necklace you were wearing, you took a deep breath and tried to calm your whole self. With shaking hands you open the door, seeing your parents already there and the duke sat next to them.

“Sorry for being late.” You bowed the head.

“This kid…” You heard your mother whispering under her breath.

“It’s okay my lady.” The duke stood up and walked towards you, standing right in front of you. “You look beautiful today.” He said holding your hand and placing a wet kiss on it.

A blush painted your cheeks as you looked at him and especially at those intense blue eyes.

“Duke Gojo!” Your father spoke. “Let’s begin this meal please.”

The duke nodded and you sat next to your mother. You could feel your mother's angry look on you.

Your father cleared his throat and began to speak. “So duke Gojo, why do you want to marry our daughter?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to marry your daughter sir?” He grinned.

“Our poor daughter has a poor health and you sir leave far away from here, I don’t think it’s…” Your mother began her speech but soon enough was cut by the duke.

“I heard that you wanted her to marry Mr. Harrison and before that Sir. Lucas, who lives far away near the mountains.” He said, taking the cup of wine in his hands. “I don’t think you care about your daughter’s health but rather about your own safety. Am I wrong?”

You looked at your parents who looked at each other, scared at the duke’s words. “How dare you?!”

“Father please.” You begged, looking how your father stood up from his place.

“Shut up!” Your father screamed back at you, making you flinch.

“We let you stay in our house and even make a whole show about marrying our daughter and you say those things to us?” Your father approached the duke.

“Sir, I'm just stating what I have seen and what I think.” He smirked still firm on his seat.

“This meal is over.” He walked to the door, he turned to you and with fierce eyes he spoke. “Come with me now.”

You nodded and gave one last glance at the duke as you exited the room. You followed your father and your mother, you knew what it was about to happen and you were scared to death.

Your parents' steps were quick and you could feel the tense atmosphere building with each stride. When you entered your father's office you felt your skin turn cold and your breathing hitch. Your father sat in his seat and slammed the wooden table.

"You realize the mess you've gotten us into." Her voice was high and she penetrated you like daggers.

You wet your mouth, which had been dry to speak but your mother spoke first. “You probably went and seduced him, right?” You looked at her, surprised by her words. “In that meeting you had, you spread your legs for the duke, right?”

“No! Mother, father, I would never do that.” You held your breath.

“Shut up!” You closed your eyes, scared. “You know in what you got us into?” Your father spoke. “Your marriage to Mr. Harrison was already ready, but now… now we have to deal with that duke.” He sighed in his seat. “He will ruin our family, our honor.”

“Mr. Harrison is double my age…” You murmured wrinkling your white dress.

“Excuse me?” Your mother said. “That doesn’t matter, Mr. Harrison is the perfect choice for you.”

“Why?” You replied, you had never replied back, you had always stayed quiet. But now…

Before asking another question you feel your cheek burn, your mother had slapped you. You could taste blood in your mouth, she had hit you with one of the gold rings she was wearing. Holding your face, tears began to well up in your eyes.

"Don't you dare talk back to us like that again, do you understand?" Your mother yelled at you. You just nodded, feeling yourself shrink with each exhale you released.

“You better make the duke feel disgusted with you and break up that stupid marriage proposal. You understand?” Your father said from the table, you nodded. “Now out of my sight.”

You left the room with your heart racing and feeling tears running down your face. Crossing the backyard, you walked along the path that you knew so well and liked to walk so much to get to the beach. When you got to the beach you let yourself fall face down on the ground, causing some pebbles to get stuck in your knees. But they didn't hurt, they didn't hurt like your soul hurt at that moment.

Muffled by the sound of the waves crashing against the nearby cliff, you let your sobs wash over you and consume you. You loved that place, not because of your family, no. You loved it for the tranquility and peace it gave you, but now you wanted to run away, you even wanted to run towards the sea and turn into bubbles, like that story of the mermaid and the sailor that you had once read. You wanted to disappear.

“Angel…” You heard his voice muttering your nickname.

“Go away!” You screamed not looking at him and hiding your tears.

“Angel, let me see your face. Please.” For the tone of his voice you could tell he was worried.

“Why?” You murmured against your skin. “Why do you care about me?”

He sighed and you felt how he sat next to you on the sand. “You want me to be honest with you angel?” You stayed silent but carefully listening to him. “The truth is that I might be a bit bad after all.” Your body tensed up hearing him. “But not to you… I could never hurt such a beautiful flower like you.” He whispered.

“How are you bad?” You whispered.

“Because I do want to ruin your family.” You tightened your grip around yourself at those words and trembled slightly. “But don’t get me wrong my angel.” He continued. “Not gonna lie, at first I wanted to ruin you too, but after seeing you on this beach, so beautifully, so ethereally reading a book, something on me shifted.” He explained. “I didn’t want to ruin you and when I saw what your parents did to you, I knew that I only wanted to ruin them and not you.”

Sniffling, you looked up at him, your eyes red with tears. “Why do you want to ruin them?” You whispered.

He looked at you and swallowed, you saw how his throat moved. His cold fingers touched your cheeks, causing you to close your eyes against the sensation or the pain, you no longer knew. “Was it them?” He whispered to you, trying not to hurt you.

You looked away and breathed. "It's not the first time." Looking at the horizon you tried to calm your agitated heart. “But please answer me.” Your voice came out like a plea, you needed to know the truth.

He sighed and dropped his hand to the side. “I was ten when my brother became to new duke after both of my parents die. At first everyone thought it was a failure of the carriage and that was why they had fallen down the ravine. My father died instantly, but my mother lay dying for hours until she died. “My brother was 17 when he inherited the title, but he always believed there was something strange about his accident.” She ruffled her hair. “As the years went by she began to investigate and little by little she discovered loose ends that had never fit together.”

You turned your face to look at him as he continued speaking. “My parents, well my family has always been very close to the royal family and they had always supported the king, so much so that my father was his right-hand man for years. But 20 years ago a group of nobles opposed the king's reforms since it would take away wealth from the nobles.” You had heard about it. “My father and the king repressed and punished them for it, it was considered a betrayal.”

“My family was part of them…” You whispered.

“Yes.” He sentenced. “My brother also found letters with your father’s signature talking about sabotaging my family.” You felt how you turned pale and the blood ran cold in your veins. “Before he died, he had collected enough evidence to frame your family and three other noble families.” He whispered, clenching her fists.

“Duke…” You whispered, his eyes were thirsty for revenge and that caused you to tremble in your place.

When the duke heard your voice, his shoulders and gaze relaxed and he looked at you with serenity. “Angel… I don't plan to hurt you, you are not to blame for what your parents have done and you have also suffered because of them.” He whispered, bringing your foreheads together and letting them connect.

You felt the warmth of his body transfer to yours, and that fear you had felt disappeared from you, to be replaced by a feeling of calm and protection.

“Duke…” You whispered.

“Call me Satoru, when it’s just the two of us, angel.” He whispered.

You nodded at his request. “I… I want to leave this household.” You closed your eyes. “I’m scared but… aside from Rose you are the only person who has stood for me Duke…”

“Angel… Call me Satoru and whatever you tell me to do I will.” He firmly said.

“I want you…” You took a deep breath. “I want you to take my first time. I know that once my parents find about that they won’t care if I marry you because they will despise me.”

“Angel, are you sure about what you are asking me?”

“I’m sure du- Satoru.” You looked at him.

You saw how the duke stood up and walked slowly from one side to the other, then kneel before you.

“I really thought you would ask me to do something crazy like murder them.” He laughed. “But this angel? You really drive me crazy and I would love to make love to you on this same beach. Admire you and make you gasp with pleasure right now."

His words caused an intense fire in you, so much so that you had to squeeze your legs before the new sensation that had been established in your intimate area.

Satoru approached you and cupped your face with both hands. “I'm going to kiss you my angel.” And before you could reproach or say anything, his warm, wet lips were on yours.

That was your first kiss, you had never kissed anyone before, always behaving too well and too into your books, where love stories gave you butterflies in your stomach so you could live your own love story. Satoru deepened the kiss, leaving you lying on the sand and him on top of you. With each passing moment you felt like you were getting hotter and hotter.

When you were both short of breath, Satoru pulled away from you, biting your lower lip, causing you to let out a small whimper.

“I will see you tonight, angel.”

He got up from the sand and with one last kiss on the forehead he disappeared from your sight. With your chest rising and falling agitatedly you tried to compose yourself, your entire being was an accumulation of emotions that were mostly new to you and you needed time to process them.

You turned your head to look at the place where Satoru had left and thought about what would happen that night.

☆*:.｡.☆ .｡.:*☆

You hugged yourself, feeling the cold of the night hit your exposed skin. You were barely wearing a thin cloth that covered your most intimate parts. The duke had said that he would visit you once the sun had set and the moon was shining brightly in the sky.

Your heart was beating strongly in your chest and a warmth had established itself in your chest. You could hear the hands of the clock moving, indicating the passing of time. And with every minute that passed, your uncertainty and your nervousness only believed a little more.

Two touches on the window of your balcony brought you out of the momentary trance in which you had established yourself. Turning on your heels you could see the large figure of the duke on your balcony.

With a light step you approached the balcony door and opened it. “How did you get up here?” You inquired.

“I have my secrets, angel.” He whispered to your ear. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Thank… thank you.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks turning red.

“You know we can still wait until we are…” He started talking.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to, I have always followed my parents orders and I’m tired.” You looked down. “I love this place but… I want to leave and I want my parents to know that I will never follow their orders, that I’m tired of their abuses and their treatment.”

The duke held your face back up and smiled down at you. “That’s my angel.” He said before kissing you.

That was your second kiss and just like the one at the beach, your knees trembled and you felt weak under his soft lips. You felt how your hand left your face and began to go down your body, tracing each of your curves. An intense heat settled on you when his hand reached your thigh and with a quick movement he raised it, causing you to be even closer to each other.

You gasped against his mouth as you felt him stick so close to you and you swore he smiled against your lips as you heard that lewd sound come out of you.

Separating himself from you, he began to leave kisses on your neck, causing you to tilt your head back to give him more space. You felt ecstatic, you could feel how your entire body vibrated with every kiss, every bite that the duke was leaving on you.

“Duke…” You whispered when you felt it go down to the area of ​​your breasts, which were only covered by a thin layer of silk.

“Angel, I told you to call me Satoru when it’s just you and me.” He whispered against your skin causing the already growing heat inside you to grow even more. “Shall we go to the bed my angel?” He whispered in your ear biting the lobe.

Nodding, the duke or rather Satoru grabbed your hand and guided you to the bed where he sat down and with his strong arms he sat you on top of him. Causing once again a small gasp to escape your lips as you felt that hardness collide against your intimacy.

Your dress was completely hiked up, exposing your thighs, and the straps had been lowered causing your breasts to be about to be exposed to the man who had turned your world upside down.

“I will gentle with you.” He whispered grabbing one of the straps and pulling it down, exposing yourself to him. “If you want to stop, say so.” He brought her hand up and trapped your chest with it, causing you to thrash on top of him. "Alright." He said before beginning to caress your nipple.

You closed your eyes tightly against the new sensations that a simple touch on your nipple was causing in you. You had read about this but you had never thought that it could feel like this.

Your back arched even more when you felt his mouth rest on your nipple and begin to suck. With one hand you held onto him to avoid falling and with the other you covered your hand to prevent those moans that were building up in your throat from escaping.

You felt embarrassed by everything your body was feeling at that moment, but it felt really good and you wanted more of him. Unconsciously you moved your hips rubbing against Satoru's erection.

“Oh angel, don’t do that I won’t be able to hold back.” He whispered looking up at you.

“I am sorry…”

“It’s okay, I know you are anxious but me too.” He took you from the waist and supports you on the bed, leaving him on top of you.

He dressed him as he got rid of his jacket and then his white shirt, exposing his body. You felt that familiar warmth inside you again. Satoru grabbed your leg, causing your underwear to show, leaving you even more exposed. With your leg in his hands, he began to leave kisses on it, while he went higher and higher.

“Angel…” He whispered to you. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

You shook your head, you had never done it, you had read about it, but you had never done it, since you felt that it was something too vulgar.

“Alright angel.” He took your hands and pulled you, sitting you on the bed, both of you chest to chest. “I'm going to stand behind you and teach you how to touch yourself.” He whispered close to your ear. "Do you think it's okay?"

You nodded and Satoru with great agility positioned himself behind you, your back against his chest. You could even feel his heartbeat pounding against your back.

“I will guide you okay?” He took your hand in his and started to descend.

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @satoracyxys @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop

[neverevan]

Fuck It Friday 💌

I keep wondering if people even know that I write... like, I know giffing has captivated me lately, but actually this is where I'm "based", so to speak. I just kinda fell off the map since the new season started airing (and since posting that 75k monstrosity that was the mudslide fic lmao).

Anyway, I am finally, finally getting closer to finishing the buck loves tommy fic (which pretty much does what it says on the tin, though it does have an actual title now), all it needs is some hefty editing and it's ready to be posted — hopefully within the next few days. Until then, here's some soft angst that somehow found its way into the middle of the smut.

“Good.” Tommy’s lips stretched into one of those wide but close lipped smiles and it was hard to hold back the urge to trace it with his thumb — so he didn’t. Tommy gave a small kiss to the tip of Buck’s thumb, before opening his lips and sucking it in between them, humming quietly. “God… did you get even hotter while you were away?” Buck mused with an incredulous huff. “Are you trying to talk your way into my pants?” Tommy’s grin was downright dangerous as he let go of Buck’s finger and leaned down to get a hold of the hem of his t-shirt, rolling it up as much as he could with the stupid sling in the way. “You’re not wearing any pants.” Buck pointed out with a teasing lilt of his voice. “Must be doing real good on all that talking then, huh?” “Funny.” Buck rolled his eyes jovially, but when Tommy didn’t answer or in fact moved at all, he zeroed in on his face with a frown. “H-hey, you okay?” “I don’t know. Are you?” Buck followed his line of sight, only to realize that Tommy was staring directly at the bruises on his ribs, where they were blooming like a collection of poisonous clematises; hugging his torso tight, probably for weeks to come. “Y-yeah, I told you, I’m fine. It’s- it’s just some bruising, no big deal, I swear.” “We can wait until you feel better.” Tommy suggested, his face darkening and his eyes never leaving the big blotches of purple and pink. “Baby, does it look like I wanna wait?” Buck scoffed, gesturing vaguely at his achingly hard cock, only inches away from Tommy’s own. “Evan, that’s not—” “You a-asked me what I need.” Buck cut him off with a serious set of his jaw. “This- this is what I need. You. That’s all I want, okay? So just… please, would you just touch me already?” Buck closed his eyes with a frustrated little sigh and only opened them when he felt a feather light touch on his skin, causing it to twitch with a tickle, as Tommy’s lips brushed over the bruises. “That okay?” He hummed quietly, his lips gently vibrating with it and bringing a small tingle into Buck's ribs, one that somehow felt like it was going much deeper than skin or bone. “Y-yeah… okay.”

✨I have been tagged by and am absolutely no pressure tagging the ever so talented @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @likegoldintheair @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @actualalligator @wikiangela @bucksbignaturals @loveyouanyway and anyone else who feels like sharing mwuahhh 💛

[burntheedges]

Maintenance Request Chapter 23

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 2.7k

chapter summary: the end of the semester has arrived, so where does that leave our favorite couple? 💕

a/n: y'all, this is the last chapter. I honestly can't believe it. please send me an ask for the celebration of the end of the fic if you haven't, I would love to answer them -- I'm going to start posting those next week and after as we get to the epilogue. but send me as many as you'd like!

thank you to everyone who has read any part of this fic. if I think about this too much I get really emotional. I can't believe so many of you have stuck around all these week. thank you so much 🧡 and if you're finding this later, please tell me what you think. I will always want to know!

one more big thank you to @katareyoudrilling, who is an amazing beta and who helped make this fic so much better than the draft she saw the first time she read it. 🧡

chapter tags/warnings: construction noises (lol), HCG, reader can wink (author cannot), poetry, cuddling, pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, honey, baby), kissing, grinding, p-in-v sex, semi-public sex, so much fluff

Chapter 23

Friday, December 6 Last day of classes 

You were walking back to your office from your last class of the semester, feeling the relief start to seep through you, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a jackhammer.

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

Turning abruptly, you headed towards the source of the noise. You had a pretty good feeling you knew who might be overseeing whatever work was going on.

Sure enough, as you turned the corner to the future location of the new library, you caught sight of a familiar set of shoulders (and a familiar cocked hip). Joel had his back to you, arms crossed, and was dressed up in his Hot Construction Guy outfit. You grinned. 

When you were about 10 feet behind him, you called out, “excuse me, how long will this noise go on for? Don’t you know classes are in session?” You tried to sound annoyed and tamp down on your grin as he spun to face you. You wanted to pretend to look serious, but he was already smiling at you. You smiled back. 

“I thought classes ended fifteen minutes ago, darlin’.” He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning.

“Maybe so. You should really tell your boss to schedule these things better, you know.” You winked at him and he laughed. 

“You reckon? You know, you aren’t the first person to say so.” Joel stepped closer to you and tucked his arm around your waist. 

“No?” You smiled as he pulled you in. 

He nodded, unable to hold back a laugh. “Some gorgeous professor who really hates me told me the same thing.”

You raised your hands to his shoulders. “She sounds like a real piece of work.”

He laughed and ducked down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled into it and felt the stress of the last week of classes start to fall away from your shoulders. It was soft and comforting and warm, but it didn’t last long — a sharp whistle from the construction site interrupted you. As you broke apart you realized the jackhammer noise had stopped. 

You looked up and were met with the eyes of the entire crew there at your end of the site. All of them were grinning at you. You felt your cheeks start to get warm.

“Slacking off again, boss?” One of them called, clearly teasing. The others laughed, and one made his way over to you as they got back to work. 

“You must be the reason Miller here’s been in such a good mood lately.” The man was tall and dressed similarly to Joel. He nodded at you. “Jesse. Nice to meet you.”

You laughed a little and patted Joel on the shoulder as you introduced yourself. “Was he that much of a grump before?”

Joel groaned and rolled his eyes. Both of you grinned at him. 

“Well, he definitely never got out of the office this much, before. He’s all over campus lately. For a while we thought he was checking on our work, hovering and sticking his nose in, until we figured out the real reason.” He winked at you. “And I caught him humming yesterday while he was doing paperwork.” Joel ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. 

You laughed again. “You know I had no idea he was the boss, for a while.”

Jesse’s eyes lit up. “Seriously, Miller? You didn’t tell her?” He looked at Joel, starting to grin. “What, you didn’t want to brag or something?”

Joel sighed. “Look—“

You elbowed him and he grabbed your hand. “He thought I knew, but he was also afraid I’d find out and blame all the noise problems on him.”

Jesse laughed and Joel shook his head. 

“Anyway, it was nice to meet you. I’ve got to head back to my office and finish up some stuff. Joel, I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you there before we leave.” 

You smiled – you were having dinner at his place tonight, and Sarah had planned something special to celebrate the end of the semester. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “See you then. Bye, y’all!” You called your farewell to the crew and they all waved. 

“Nice to meet you!” Jesse called back, and as you walked away you heard him tease Joel, “how’d you get so lucky, man?”

Joel’s gruff voice answered, “don’t know. Been thankin’ my lucky stars for it every damn day, though.” You smiled and decided you’d tell him later that you felt the exact same way. 

…

Later that night, after you’d had the amazing dinner Sarah had come up with (with Tommy’s help), and after you’d spent some time just chatting with them around the table, she headed out for a sleepover and Tommy left to drop Sarah off and then meet a woman. (That’s all you knew about her. He was being oddly secretive, and Joel had been complaining about it for days. You didn’t even know her name.) 

As twilight set in, you found yourself relaxing side by side with Joel on a padded lounge chair in his back garden. He’d finally given you a tour a few weeks back and you were starting to wish you could spend more time here. It was beautiful, and peaceful, and full of clever little nooks like this one to relax in. The paths were lined by tall bushes and wound around before opening up into a shady area at the very back. You were certain you still hadn’t seen all of it. 

Joel had also finally admitted that he did used to have some of the plants that made you sneeze, but he’d uprooted them as best he could to gift them to a neighbor down the street. It sounded like it had gone pretty well, all things considered.

Technically the lounge chair was probably meant for one person, even though it was wider than most, but you’d squeezed in together. Joel was sprawled out and you were tucked into his right side with your arm across his chest, a light blanket thrown over both of you.

The semester was over and you were almost free, except for some grading. You were enjoying the quiet moment with him, enjoying the beauty of the work of his hands all around you, when he suddenly tensed. 

“Joel? What is it?” You tilted your head to up to catch his eye and found him with a worried look on his face. You bit your lip.

He sighed. “I have a surprise for you.”

You sat up, leaving your hand on his chest. “A surprise? Why do you sound like that’s a bad thing?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you askance. “Well, let me just show you.” He sat up a bit and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. You watched as he unfolded it slowly and carefully but didn’t catch a glimpse of any of the writing on it. You turned so you were sitting facing him and tucked the blanket around your shoulders. 

Once you were settled he nodded to himself and reached out to take your hand. “Ok.” He took a visibly deep breath, and then he started reading, voice deep and warm.

“…you are a concordance of person, number, voice, and place, strawberries spread through your name    as if it were budding shrubs,”

At the first line he recited, you gasped and tightened your grip on his hand. You knew this poem. You’d read it before. He’d started somewhere in the middle, but you knew it, still. You felt your eyes start to tear up. 

“how you remind me    of some spring, the waters as cool and clear (late rain clings to your leaves, shaken by light wind), which is where you occur in grassy moonlight:    and you are a lily, an aster, white trillium or viburnum, by all rights mine, white star    in the meadow sky,” 

You hadn’t memorized it, like Joel clearly had – he’d barely glanced at the paper in his hand, even closing his eyes after the first few lines. But he didn’t rush. His pace was slow and steady and sure. You watched his mouth form the shape of these beautiful words and you felt them wash over you and tug at something in the center of your chest. 

“the snow still arriving from its earthwards journeys, here where there is    no snow (I dreamed the snow was you, when there was snow), you are my right, have come to be my night (your body takes on    the dimensions of sleep, the shape of sleep    becomes you): and you fall from the sky with several flowers, words spill from your mouth in waves, your lips taste like the sea, salt-sweet (trees    and seas have flown away, I call it loving you):”

You sucked in a sharp breath at that line as it sent a shiver down your spine. You remembered the ending and felt a tear slip down your face as you started to smile, helplessly. 

“home is nowhere, therefore you,    a kind of dwell and welcome, song after all,    and free of any eden we can name”

When he finished, you squeezed his hand hard and his eyes flew open. He looked so nervous you could barely stand it. 

“Joel!” You said his name forcefully, and he blinked. His hand came up to cup your cheek and he brushed his thumb gently under your eye.

“Shit, darlin’, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Was it bad?”

“Bad?!” You reached up to hold his hand against your face and turned to kiss his palm once, twice, three times in quick succession. “Joel, that was beautiful. I— I had no idea you—“ you trailed off, tongue-tied. “I loved it.” You felt him thumb away another tear gently and smiled. “I loved it so much. Where did you read it?”

He was smiling at you now, clearly relieved. “In that book you loaned Sarah. She helped me. I’ll be honest, at first I just said I wanted a love poem and we found it because of the flowers.”

You grinned at him. “That’s a great way to find a poem, Joel. Through what you love.”

He nodded, looking sheepish. “Well, the first time I read it, I knew it was true. About you.” You tilted your head, wondering which part he meant. “You are those things, to me. Moonlight, and flowers, and everything else. And a home.” 

You felt your tears start to well again as you nodded. “Joel, that’s beautiful. I love that poem. And I loved hearing you say it. I–” You closed your mouth abruptly. You’d almost continued I love you, but you were somehow still afraid. Maybe it was too soon. Even if you felt it, so much, more than ever in this moment. 

He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone and smiled at you. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He pulled you forward and you fell into a kiss, crawling into his lap. You wanted to be close, as close to him as possible. He welcomed you and wrapped his arms around you.

You broke the kiss to press your forehead against his. You closed your eyes and spoke, unable to hold it in any longer. “Love is a place. A home. I’ve always believed that home can be a person, and love the home you make with them.” 

You heard him whisper your name and smiled. You leaned back slightly to meet his eyes, and saw he had tears in his, too. You frowned. “Joel, are you–”

“I love you.” He interrupted you. His voice was deep and firm and it stole your breath away. 

“Joel,” you breathed his name, eyes wide.

“I know it’s too early, sweetheart, but I do. I love you and I need you to know it. I want that with you. To build a home. To be each other’s home.” He lifted his right hand to cup your face again and your next intake of breath felt like a sob. “I want everything with you.”

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest and searched for your words. “Joel, I love you, too. So freaking much.” You watched as his expression was transformed from nervous to delighted.

He grinned. “Say it again, honey.”

“I love you, Joel Miller.”

“And I love you.”

You cut him off before he could say your name, pushing forward into a hard kiss. He wrapped his arms around you again to pull you tight against him.

“How’d I get this lucky,” he murmured against your lips. 

You smiled. “I heard you say that earlier. I think I’m the lucky one, you know.”

He shook his head. “No way, darlin’.”

You laughed and he buried his face in your shoulder. “Well, we can just be lucky together.”

He smiled against your neck and you felt him start to worry a new mark into your collarbone. You sighed and tangled your fingers through his hair. 

“As long as we’re doin’ it together, honey, we can be whatever you like.” He nipped lightly at your neck and you shivered. 

Joel leaned back and pulled you into another kiss. His hands slid down your back and grasped your hips. You gasped as he pulled you forward, grinding against you. You could feel his cock through both of your pants and you tried to widen your legs around his hips, tried to feel him where you wanted him most.

“Ever had sex out here?” Your voice was breathy as you asked and he hummed. 

“Never.” His hands slipped forward around your waist and undid the button of your pants. “Was waitin’ for you.”

You laughed a little, charmed by the absurd idea. “You didn’t even know I existed when you grew this garden, Joel.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, pushing your pants down over your hips. You shimmied out of them and came back to rest your naked pussy over his still-clothed cock, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. You rocked forward and sighed happily when he spoke. “I was still missin’ you, baby. Was lookin’ for you. Just didn’t know it yet.”

Your heart swelled and you swallowed against the sudden tightness in your throat. “I was looking for you too, Joel.” You reached down to undo his pants and quickly pulled his cock free. He was devastatingly hard.

“‘M so happy I found you, sweetheart.” He tugged your hips forward and up, notching the tip of his cock right at your entrance. “I love you.” He murmured it right against your lips as he pulled you downwards, as you sank down steadily on his cock.

You moaned as you came to rest against his hips. The way he filled you was perfect, every single time.

“I love you so much, Joel Miller,” you almost sobbed his name as he urged you with his hands to begin moving. You rocked your hips against his and he leaned forward to rest your foreheads together. You could feel his breath against your lips and it was suddenly the most intimate thing you’d ever done, moving together like that, so close, so connected. It felt like every part of you was touching every part of him, like something inside of you had reached out and latched onto him and wouldn’t let go.

He whispered your name again and you shivered. “I love having you here.”

“Here?” You smirked and twisted your hips and reveled in his moan. 

“Here in my lap – yes. Always.” He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You look so good sitting on this cock, honey. Was made for you.” 

You moaned at his words and rocked your hips forward. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “Yes. But I meant, I want you here all the time, honey. I was going to wait, shit–” he cut off abruptly when you ground your hips downward against him. “But please, baby, say you’ll move in. Come live with us.” You gasped. “Make this your home.”

There was a feeling rising up in you that was so huge, so overwhelming, you didn’t know what would happen when it spilled out. It felt like happiness and love and everything you felt every time you locked eyes with this man, every time he looked at you.

“Yes, Joel.” He shuddered. “Not today,” you laughed and he joined you, rueful. “But yes. I want to make a home with you.”

He groaned as he thrust into you again, and you wrapped yourself around him and let the joy take over.

...

a/n: 😭 please let me know what you think. I love all of you and I'll see you next week for the epilogue. in the meantime please send me as many celebration asks as you'd like.

The poem featured in part in this chapter is "You, Therefore," written by Reginald Shepherd for his partner, Robert Philen. Please go read it. Shepherd wrote it knowing he was dying and that his partner would outlive him (and Philen did, in fact) and it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever read.

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[theworldofotps]

Painting (Drabble)

Pairing: Lord Debling x Reader Word Count: 743 Description: Y/n is struggling with a painting when she recieves some much needed help.

So, I have never written fanfiction for Bridgerton before but after watching the first half of season 3 and meeting Lord Debling I couldn't help myself. I'm also very nervous to post this because it's a bit out of my comfort zone but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Dedicated to: @madhatterbri who encouraged me to write this, helped form the plot and is overall one of the best. I appreciate you so much thank you! (I haven't added my normal tag list since those are usually just for wrestling. If you'd like to be added to a tag list of anything I write besides wrestling let me know!) __________ Y/n let out a soft huff as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, staring at the canvas in front of her. She’d spent the last two hours trying to paint a bird from the book set on a stool in front of her. This was a painting she just didn’t want to mess up on but the more she stared at it the worse it seemed to look.

“Is everything alright m’lady?”

“Yes Ruth, just having a bit of difficulty getting these colors to work and blend the way that I wish them too.”

“Please let me know when you are ready, and I shall draw the bath for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth.”

Watching the maid leave, Y/n turns back towards her painting and examines the book once more. Adjusting the apron she wore over her dress to keep from ruining it, she dipped into her paints again. More time passed and her frustrations only grew as the colors started running and made the bird look like a mess.

Dropping the paintbrush in the pot of water she hung her head in defeat, deciding to just start all over again. Not having heard the door open she nearly jumped, feeling a pair of arms wrapping around her before a chuckle sounded in her ear.

“Sorry to startle you love I thought you heard me enter.”

“That’s alright my lord I just was focusing on something else.”

Alfred glanced around to be sure they were alone before pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

“Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I’m trying to paint this bird and all of my colors keep running I’ve spent hours on it but alas to no avail.”

Remaining silently as his eyes drifted over the canvas in front of them, since they had began courting he was trying to take interest in her hobbies. When he found out she had a love for painting much like his mother, it was one he quickly did his best to learn all he could about it.

“Allow me to offer my assistance to you.”

Grabbing her hand gently together they picked up the brush, the sparks of electricity she felt as they moved together dipping into her paint pallet. She could barely concentrate at the feel of him pressed against her back. When the brush touched the canvas, she let out a soft laugh.

“What is it brining you such joy my dear?”

“Your beard tickles my cheek.”

Y/n spoke softly as his own smile grew to match hers the two talking in soft whispers as he helped her fix the once ruined picture.

“What do you think?”

“It looks so much better thank you for your help now we both must sign it.”

She said pointing to the feather quill and pot of ink sat on the desk a few feet away from them, Alfred reached over grabbing the quill. Signing the name Debling then placing the quill in her hand so she could sign her last name.

Placing it back in the ink pot Y/n slowly turned to face him their eyes meeting hers lighting up as his softened.

“Miss. Y/n  I know this may come forth as a bit forward but may I kiss you?”

He asked a slight nervous quiver to his voice if you listened close enough she remained silently causing him to clear in throat. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured into anything. After a moment her smile grew as she leaned closer to him their lips brushing in the softest touch before a knock on the door sent them apart. Composing themselves she turned to see Ruth entering one more.

“Excuse me miss but your mother is looking for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth please tell her, that I will be right there.”

Ruth nodded, leaving them alone again y/n sighing softly she turned back to Alfred who gently touched her cheek.

“I must be going as it is rather late, I shall call upon you tomorrow afternoon would that be alright?”

“Yes, I would enjoy that very much my lord.”

The pair left the room and y/n saw him to the front entrance, his fingers once more touching her cheek in a bid farewell. Watching him leave she sighed her arms wrapping around herself, the thought of his arms around her caused her face to heat up. Turning, she went off in search of her mother.

[alrightieaphroditie]

wipe my tears away | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones!  an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format!  check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps. 

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life. 

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection. 

Because it was a different story, now. 

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it. 

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face. 

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today. 

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning. 

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

 And so, that’s what you did. 

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling. 

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread. 

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway. 

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up. 

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body. 

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows. 

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response. 

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils. 

And the occasional sniffle. 

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about. 

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body. 

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go. 

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. 

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see. 

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking. 

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream. 

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace. 

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps. 

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it. 

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material. 

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it. 

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever. 

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him. 

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice. 

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared. 

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him. 

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin. 

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours. 

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven. 

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body. 

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh. 

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg. 

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close. 

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed. 

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you. 

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream. 

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out. 

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down. 

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you. 

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open. 

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?” 

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock. 

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger. 

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm. 

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers. 

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.” 

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested. 

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body. 

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up. 

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even. 

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours. 

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together. 

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure. 

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless. 

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.” 

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you. 

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit. 

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent. 

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours. 

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse. 

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed. 

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh. 

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house. 

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly. 

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit. 

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm. 

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body. 

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach. 

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself. 

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?” 

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men. 

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open. 

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up. 

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up. 

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom. 

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours. 

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.” 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls. 

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more. 

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for. 

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening. 

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest. 

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from. 

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face. 

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening. 

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit. 

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.” 

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22. 

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink. 

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill. 

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts. 

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable. 

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed. 

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. 

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob. 

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you. 

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested. 

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating. 

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it. 

Pictures of Callie. 

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something. 

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means. 

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations. 

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible. 

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.” 

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such. 

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.” 

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go. 

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?” 

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger. 

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child.  “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXIII

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please note: There will be heavy subjects discussed that may be triggering.

*This chapter was previously part of chapter 21 (which again, was 30 pages?? insane) and as I have been editing and reuploading the chapters, I have since decided to split chapter 21 into two. //

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for always letting me rant about my babies ♥️

Tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @readthelastpaage / @teddyhoneybear / @positivewitch / @krem-does-stuff / @clockwork-ashes / @carolynmezzosoprano / @carnythian / @runningwiththeoceans / @secret-third-thing / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @thedarkinmansfield / @mali22 / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @moonfawnx / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @eachies / @feysandfeels / @thelovelymadone / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @sinnerrsworld / @gracie-rosee / @stormycleric / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @theeternalstruggle / @the-midnightwriter / @illyrianvalkyrie / @that-golden-lyre / @ladystarrynight

Find it all here.

Eris didn’t let himself overthink it as he finally released her hand from his and only hesitated for a moment before he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. He knew Iris hadn’t meant to make a noise but the sharp intake of breath that had slipped from her mouth had him digging his hands into his thighs, tensing even further. He would not overthink it. His shirt was already off and she’d seen his scars before…even if his back had never looked this bad.

“Quite a masterpiece my father made, didn't he?” he mused quietly then dared to glance over his shoulder to find Iris’s face flushed in anger, her eyes locked on his back.

The High Lord had avoided his face, of course. He only left marks where others couldn’t see and had certainly not held back tonight. Eris knew the scars would line his back, his upper arms, and his neck. He didn’t want to think about his hair and how his father had deliberately kept it down so it would stick in his wounds and make the sting worse.

“Do you think, if I didn’t want your wife here, she wouldn’t be?” his father had whispered to him after the first crack of the whip. “Do you think I couldn’t have her in your position right now if I didn’t want to?”

Eris’s blood had boiled at the mere thought of Iris being subjected to any of this but he kept his mouth shut. He had endured. 

“You’ve gotten too bold, son. You’ve forgotten yourself.”

He had indeed. Eris had forgotten how his father liked to play. But Beron had reminded him over and over again exactly what happens to those who cross the High Lord. Eris had forced his body to shut down and closed off his mind until his father was finished. The only thoughts he allowed himself were of Iris waiting for him.

“I look forward to the day his blood fills these halls.” she muttered. “He deserves nothing but a brutal and painful death.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth curled up. “Bloodthirsty, are you?”

“I am your wife.” she said with a pointed look and a small chuckle escaped him despite how wretched he felt. 

Yes, she was. His lovely little wife.

“Tell me, how pretty do you think your lovely little Iris would look bleeding all over the throne room floor?” his father had whispered. 

His magic had recoiled violently at his father’s threats. Eris had nearly choked on the taste of ash in his mouth.

“I could make you watch. Or…have you be the one to make her bleed. What do you think, son?”

“Eris?”

He blinked himself back into reality to find that his fists had burst into flame again and Iris was watching him patiently. Eris hadn’t even seen or heard her bring a small bowl with a towel and salves, resting them on the nightstand beside them. He cleared his throat and flexed his hands to calm down. “Hm?”

“I need to start cleaning the wounds and wanted to make sure it’s still alright for me to touch you.” she asked and Eris felt himself nearly break at the question.

He forced himself to take a steadying breath and hoped she didn’t see the slight tremble in his hands when he rubbed his forehead. “Yes.” he said. “It’s always alright for you to touch me.” 

She gently squeezed his arm at the words and he tried to hold back the shudder. He wasn’t used to anyone taking care of him. He could heal himself just fine but his wife wanted to help him. His mate wanting to touch him made a world of a difference and Eris knew the thread that he was holding on to was on its last legs. He had to get everything off his chest, all the burdens he carried.

Iris guided him to sit at the corner of the bed and turn his back to her. She worked in silence at first and Eris forced himself to relax as she gently dipped his head forward and began cleaning with a soft cloth. He forced himself to take silent breaths as she touched him. To remind himself that this was not his father putting his hands on him, it was his Iris. Her lovely, lovely hands soothing the broken pieces of him. She touched him with featherlike movements and the way his body was reacting to the softness of her hands alarmed him.

This was pathetic. He was pathetic. 

“Does this…has this happened often?” Iris asked into the silence of their room. “I know you have older scars.”

The cloth slid against the nape of his neck and Eris breathed in deeply through his nose, digging his fingers into his thighs, trying desperately not to throw up. He knew without looking at his wife, that Iris had picked up on it and her touch had gotten even gentler. “You remember when I told you earlier about the High Lord and his ways?” He began tightly and Iris hummed in response. “He leads with fear and a very heavy hand. And I use the term ‘leads’ very loosely.” 

Eris forced himself to swallow as Iris began to pat his back dry and continued.

“He changed Under the Mountain. He was always rough around the edges but…that time awakened a side of my father that he has not returned from. We all did what we had to do to survive those fifty years but he…he became more vicious.” he said quietly. “Before that, he lashed out often and his fists spoke before his mouth ever did but it wasn’t consistent. You weren’t sure what would trigger him. The flogging was saved for special occasions — when we really pissed him off.” Eris couldn’t look at her as he added, “The first time he used it was on my mother. He made my brothers and I all watch.”

Iris froze behind him, hand in midair as revulsion coursed through her.

“It was after Lucien was born,” Eris said, his voice carefully void of emotion. “We were all locked in place by his magic and had to watch her bleed. We had to listen to her scream and could do nothing. None of us were really the same after that, especially my mother.”

“Why?” Iris managed to choke out and Eris looked over his shoulder at his wife.

“Monsters don’t need reasons but…” he turned away again and with his voice barely above a whisper said, “My mother had an affair and my father found out. Lucien…is not my father’s son.”

Iris blinked rapidly. “W-what?”

“My mother met a male that she fell in love with before she met my father. Her family decided power was more important than their daughter’s happiness and married her off to my father anyway,” he said, his voice dull as he glanced at his wife again before his gaze dropped to his hands. “Their relationship was…a checkbox that was fulfilled. And things were fine. Until they weren’t.”

Iris forced herself to move, to place the cloth down on the nightstand and pick up the salves instead. “What happened?” she asked as she sat behind him once more. 

Eris tensed as she began to apply the ointment, forcing himself to breathe through his nose again and calm his thoughts. “The male she loved saved her during the first war and they reconnected.” he continued. “Then the affair began on and off for years. Until my father found out after Lucien was born and nothing about her was the same afterward.”

Iris bit her lip, trying to hold back the nausea she was feeling as tension lined Eris’s back again, his shoulders stiff. “My mother was so full of light and love. A firecracker with magic that almost rivaled my father’s. She was…happy. Until that day.” Eris said and dread filled Iris’s chest when Eris pulled away to meet her gaze. “After he was done spilling her blood in the throne room that day, he took her away and they were gone for days. We did not know where they went or what he did to her then but when they came back, no fire was left in the Lady of Autumn. Nothing of who my mother had been was left.”

Iris’s heart was nearly beating out of her chest as the room heated once more. She watched Eris’s knuckles turn white from how hard he was clenching them. “Later on, after my mother remembered how to speak and to look at me without flinching,” he growled softly and Iris’s heart shattered further. “She told me everything. About her affair. About what happened. That he had used her fire against her. That he had beat her, hurt her, and burned her so badly, that he made her fear the fire that made her who she was. She is terrified of it because of how badly he made it hurt.” He let out a breath full of rage. “Since then he has never stopped belittling her and breaking her down. Hasn’t stopped doing everything he can to make her small and weak and prey.”

“And I hate him.” he snarled darkly and Iris felt the bed heat below her as she looked over at Eris, his eyes ablaze. “I hate him with every atom in my body. I loathe him and loathe the life he has forced us to live. I cannot stand the sight of him or the sound of his voice or feeling his eyes on me. I hate that he even breathes the same air as my mother. I hate that he uses my mother against my brothers and me.” Iris watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took shallow breaths. “But most of all, I hate that he’s still alive when his final breaths are a symphony I have been waiting to hear for years.”

Iris blinked and in the next moment, their whole chamber was in flames.

She gasped, her hands dropping to her lap as fire covered every inch of their room. She looked to Eris who had his eyes closed, his head tilted as frustration dripped from every inch of him. Her eyes turned to scan the room, feeling the heat and smelling the smoke. Though none of the flames touched her body, Eris was completely aflame.

“We survived fifty years of darkness beneath that fucken mountain for the nightmare to continue within this forest. He is a plague and the dream of his death is the only thing that keeps me going.”

Silence fell between them as Iris watched his fire burn throughout the room. She wondered what would happen if he did let it melt everything away. What would happen when he eventually unleashed?

“Does he know?” Iris finally asked. “That you have all this inside you?”

“He knows. Everyone knows. I will be the next High Lord.” Eris said quietly. “My power has been brewing for years and everyone can sense it. I have all this rage and all this fire but I’ve had to hold back.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “His death has always been marked for my mother and until she is ready to get out, we cannot make a move. We endure and play my father’s games…but every now and then, I need to let it out.”

And with those words, the flames flickered out in the room. Iris’s eyes surveyed everything and found...nothing was damaged. Nothing was ruined — only a lingering smell of smoke.

Turning back to him, Iris found him staring at her, smoke coming off him in waves at what remained of his rage. He blinked at her, his expression blank as his exhaustion stared back at her. 

“Did I frighten you?” he asked quietly as she watched him. “I’ve shown you quite a bit of my dark side lately.” 

But Iris was not frightened. Not in the least. She felt — she felt seen.

She shook her head and stood carefully, returning the healing ointments to the small table beside them. How did she explain to him that there was nothing frightening about what he said? That all she felt was understood? 

Finding her way back next to him, Iris sat with little space between them and color bloomed on her face when Eris’s eyes dipped to the inch between their bodies. She let her hand slide up and gently, with a tenderness she knew they both needed, let her finger delicately trace his face.

“I’m not afraid,” she said and then let her hand continue to slide up, gently musing the hair she knew he would later mourn. “I am only enraged for you.”

A heartbeat passed then Eris shuddered beneath her touch, a sigh of relief fluttering through the whole room and Iris couldn’t help the urge to lean in and kiss him. She did so tenderly, a caress of a kiss that Eris sighed into.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch her yet, to wrap his arms around her when he was still so furious. He allowed himself to trace the material of her robe beneath his fingers instead. 

“I told you there was so much to tell you.” Eris said quietly and Iris pulled her hand away to rest in his empty one, the corner of her mouth curling up.

“And I told you I want to know.” she replied. “So tell me. Get it off your chest.”

Though exhaustion had melted his bones, Eris knew he needed to keep talking. He needed to get this all off his chest. And then he hoped he’d get to spend the rest of the night kissing her. 

Eris forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly rolled his shoulders back, the tightness of his skin as it healed fueling his anger. “My brothers and I excel in pretending to hate and want to kill each other.” He glanced at Iris. “We each control a territory and let my father believe what he sees about where our loyalty lies but do what we can to keep our lives moving. The two brothers who tried to kill Lucien after Jesminda were the two who were most like my father. The rest of us were not sorry to see them go.” 

Iris watched him curiously. “Your brothers…they are not as terrible as I’m supposed to believe, are they?”

“I personally think they’re all piles of shit but no, they’re not,” Eris said and the corner of his mouth ticked up at Iris’s amused expression. “We’re not technically close but we have an understanding. They’re…trying to survive.”

Iris nodded slowly, her eyes falling to her hands in his and the way his thumb was still caressing her palms. “Do your brothers know about Lucien?”

Eris pursed his lips before answering. “My mother…preferred for everyone’s sake, that they stay in the dark about it for as long as possible but they needed to know. We had to be on the same page for her sake. So with her permission, I told them. But the only people in this court who know Lucien is not a Vanserra aside from my parents are my three brothers.” he said and met her gaze. “And now you.”

Iris nodded slowly, a strange sense of pride filling her chest that Eris was sharing this with her. That he trusted her when he trusted very few. She felt that strange tug in her ribcage once more.

“Things are never truly what they seem with you Vanserras, are they?” she said with a small huff of laughter and Eris couldn’t help but scoff.

“Nothing is ever what it seems,” he said. “Except my father. He’s always been a piece of shit.”

Iris chuckled and she couldn’t quite place the emotions she felt as she watched him. She saw the exhaustion, the heavy weight suffocating him. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d told her how often he mediated between his parents. How many times had he done it for others as well? How often had he been the one to catch the brunt of his father’s wrath? 

Eris shifted next to her and it made her focus on him once more, his expression tight and she braced herself for whatever he would say next. 

“Lucien’s father is also why he and Elain live in the Day Court.” Eris said slowly. “Courtesy of the High Lord.”

Iris blinked rapidly. “Oh.”

Eris nodded and waited for a heartbeat as it clicked for Iris. 

“Helion?” Iris’s shocked whisper had the corner of Eris’s mouth curl up before it fell once more.

“The High Lord of the Day Court is my brother’s father, yes.” Eris began then swallowed hard before continuing, “He is also…my mother’s mate.”

Iris’s shocked silence filled the room. “Oh gods.”

Everything suddenly made so much sense to Iris. The High Lord’s contempt towards Lady Enya. His reaction whenever Lucien was brought up. 

“Oh gods.” she said again and Eris’s mouth went into a thin line. “How did your father find out?”

“When Lucien was born…no one thought anything of it. He looked like any other baby.” Eris said quietly. “Until one day…he started to glow whenever he laughed. Or whenever he was fussy. It didn’t take my father long to figure it out after that. Everything went downhill from there.” He looked down at their hands. “My mother…she has only ever stayed for her sons. So we wouldn’t be left completely at his mercy growing up. And my father knew this. He spared no chance in breaking us all down for her choice.”

“That’s why your father did what he did to Lucien.” Iris said and Eris nodded solemnly.

“Once he knew Lucien wasn’t his, it wasn’t hard for him to differentiate his treatment. He hated looking at him. Hated speaking to him. My father couldn’t outright disown him because it would bring questions and it wasn't like the High Lord would ever admit his wife had an affair. And birthed a son from another High Lord? He would never.” Eris said, scowling. “He knew he could treat my mother the way he does because she broke it off with Helion. For us. For Helion. So there wouldn’t be some kind of crisis between the two courts. She’s been suffering so others won’t.”

Eris swallowed and then looked at Iris. “They’re mates.” he whispered. “And he let her go because she chose us. She chose her children. But she has always wanted him and he has always wanted her.” Eris’s eyes fell down to their joined hands, his shoulders dropping. “He has never stopped loving her. Helion may pretend he hasn’t been waiting for her all these years with his dalliances and carefree attitude but he will always wait for her. Even when he doesn't want to.”

Iris’s heart broke for Lady Enya and for the High Lord she didn’t know. It broke for the son who knew everything and had to watch his mother fade away and his father become a monster.

“That must’ve been so hard for your mother.” she said quietly. “After all these years…” Iris shook her head. “When did Lucien find out? And Helion?”

“A few years ago.” Eris continued with a sigh. “After the war, something…something in my mother changed. Maybe it was the war or maybe her capacity to deal with my father had finally reached its limits or maybe she realized her sons had only suffered watching her suffer and she was done waiting but…” He shook his head. “I saw a small spark of who she was return and she decided she wanted Lucien to know.”

Iris scrunched up her nose and then shook her head.“I’m sure that went well.” 

“Considering I had to be the one to tell him because he wouldn’t set foot here? It went great.” Eris said with a snort so like his usual self that Iris couldn't help the small smile. “My mother wrote him a letter. And I had to watch Lucien have a fucken meltdown once he read it.”

Iris shook her head again. “You can’t blame him, Eris. He endured all that he did with a piece of shit that wasn’t even his father,” she said and squeezed Eris’s hand. “Who knows what kind of life he would’ve had if he had known about Helion sooner? I’m sure it was hard for you both.”

“It wasn’t as hard as the time I had to be the one to tell Helion.” 

Iris’s brows went up but she held off on saying a word as Eris’s shoulder tensed again. He had been sharing with her so easily, so openly, she didn’t want to say anything to have him shut down. 

“What happened?” she asked quietly and Eris sighed.

“I told you how my mother started to…come back to us,” Eris said and Iris nodded. “Well. Lucien wasn’t the only one she wrote a letter to.”

Eris shifted, running a hand through his hair while his other hand stayed wrapped in hers. “I didn’t read it, of course, but I know she told him. And I know she told Lucien that she’d let Helion know but it was up to the two of them to connect if they wanted to,” he said quietly. “She hoped they would but didn’t want to push it. She felt awful enough to have hidden it all these years and then to not be able to tell them herself…” Eris fell silent with a grimace. His mother’s face had rarely been dry from how often she cried those days.  

“How did Helion take it?” Iris asked softly.

“I have never seen someone break down the way the High Lord of Day did that day.” Eris shook his head again with a frown. “I think he was already at a breaking point and had suspected something but having that confirmation was the final straw. It was messy. For Lucien. For Helion. For my mother.” he said. “There was a lot of resentment. A lot of anger. A lot of hurt. Especially because my mother can’t speak to either of them in person…she dropped this tragic surprise on them and essentially put them in a position to deal with it without her.” Eris waved a hand. “Even if it’s not by choice, it…was hard for everyone.”

“Including you, I’m sure,” she said and squeezed his hand again. “Being the in-between.”

“I was more worried my father would find out again. What would he do to her this time if he found out she’d reached out to the one male she never stopped loving?” he said quietly then shrugged with a deep sigh. “But they have a code. She writes him letters and he replies.” 

Iris felt emotion swell in her at the Lady of Autumn and the love she never stopped holding on to. “The letters she writes to Lucien include a letter for Helion, don’t they?”

Eris let out a harsh laugh. “It’s reckless after all these years but...I see her face every time she hands me a letter and whenever he sends one back. I’ve watched her wait and suffer for all these years so she could find her way back to herself. And Helion…” His expression was tight as he continued. “He would worship the ground she walks on. He would give her everything that she’s ever wanted and a life that she deserves but we have had to watch her stay here because of us. We had to watch her die little by little each year and could do nothing.” His voice broke at the final word and Eris forced himself to swallow before continuing. “He is a better male than I could ever be. Because if my mate was suffering the way my mother has, I wouldn’t have left a person alive. I would’ve razed the whole fucken continent. I don’t know how he did it. How he still does it after they’ve reconnected.”

It took a moment for Eris to be able to continue. He sighed. “Helion has always been respectful of her choice. Even when he resented it. Even when he hated it.” he said. “Their bond…I don’t think it was ever really rejected because deep down, neither of them wanted that. I think it’s only been strained all these years.”

“And now here they are…” Iris mused quietly, her mind drifting to the conversation about mates she had with Elain earlier. “A mating bond so strong even years apart couldn’t diminish how right it is. It’s a beautiful thing for those lucky enough to find it.”

Eris tensed at her words, his heart skipping a beat. Would she still feel this way about him when he told her? Would she consider herself lucky knowing the kind of shit he had to deal with? He rubbed a trembling hand over his face and continued. 

“My mother is ready to leave. I’m just waiting on when,” he murmured. “I’ve been helping her reconnect with her magic and it’s making her stronger, but it’s been hard when she’s so fucken terrified of it.” Iris squeezed his hand and he offered her a thin smile. “She’s always been scared to leave us but my brothers and I can handle the fallout now. We couldn’t before but we will now. We want her to get the fuck out of here. We’ve had enough and she’s most definitely had enough.”

“And you’re all…fine with her going to the Day Court?” Iris asked quietly.

“Yes. A part of me will always resent Helion the way I sometimes resent my mother for all these years of having to deal with this. Even if the fault ultimately always lies with my father.” Eris said tightly. “This could end very badly but once Helion claims her publicly as his mate, my father will have to let her go.”

“Will he, though?” Iris asked, unease creeping into her chest. “What if he invokes the Blood Duel?”

Iris felt the shift in his mood at her question and watched him carefully as he slid his hand from hers and stood. His shoulders tensed even further and Iris felt the room heat up once more. Her stomach dropped as he ran both hands through his hair, his breathing turning shallow again.

“He won’t have a fucken choice. A mating bond trumps everything else.” he growled softly. “But if Beron invokes the blood duel, I can promise that it will only end in agony for him. I will do everything I can to ensure it, even if it means handing Helion the spear to plant in his chest myself. I will do anything. Anything to have him gone and be rid of this misery. I just need him gone without trying to take my mother with him.”

“You said your mother wants the killing blow.” Iris said carefully and she saw his fists clench. “Will that…be possible?”

“She will be ready for it regardless, but we will have to see how the events unfold.” he said in a strained voice. “Helion has enough pent-up rage in him towards my father that I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed him with one well-aimed blow.”

Iris opened her mouth but Eris resumed pacing with another shake of his head and continued.

“Elain’s visions keep telling me that pieces are moving and all we can do is be prepared for whatever is coming next,” he said. “The problem is there are too many things out of my control. There are too many pieces on the fucken chess board and I am — I am going to lose my fucken mind if things keep piling up.” 

Iris watched as he took another breath and fisted then flexed his hands. “You don’t have to handle all this alone.” she said and stood, watching the grimace he made at her words. “You can’t stay like this when you have people willing to help you.”

“The more people that help me, the more people get hurt.” Eris snapped and Iris frowned at his tone as he kept pacing. “I can’t — I can’t keep letting that happen.”

“Eris,” she chided gently. “You can’t stop —”

But Eris let out a snarl and Iris blinked to find him aflame once more.

“Don’t.” he said. “I can’t stop because the next person that he’ll hurt if I let one thing slip is you and that will bring hell upon us all.” His snarl shook the room and Iris felt herself tense. “Because if my father touches you. If he so much as looks at you wrong, I will kill him and probably get killed in the process, and then everything we’ve been enduring for years will go up in flames from my stupidity.”

Iris’s face flushed. The anger and shame she had felt earlier had found its way again and the feeling seeped down her body as he stood across from her. “I’m not asking you to kill your father for me, Eris. I’m asking you to ease some of the things you’re carrying so you don’t keep doing this to yourself.” she snapped. “You’re lashing out at me right now while all I’m trying to do is understand what happened with you and find a way to help.” 

Eris was breathing hard once more and she braced herself as he walked over to her, his body burning. His hand curled around the nape of her neck and he pulled her flush against him. “I know you’re trying to understand and I’m trying to help you understand how fucked up this all is and how much I have hated every single thing about myself and my life for the longest time. That I have always been a thing my father uses to punish everyone for everything because I can’t stomach him doing it to anyone else.” He took a breath as Iris placed a hand gently on his chest, blinking rapidly. “The only reason my father isn’t dead yet is because I need to make sure it’s a fight I can win. Because if I die, then everyone else is left dealing with him. My mother. My brothers. You.”

His grip tightened on her as he continued, his tone almost frantic. “I’m telling you all these things so you understand that I am fucken terrified of what comes next because things have changed for me and the stakes are even higher and now I am a thing that has someone to leave behind. Someone who will be brutally hurt just because you’re linked to me in a way no one else will ever be.” he said as his wild eyes locked on her wide ones. “I have laid down everything at your feet. All of my armor. Everything that I am and you want to know why? You asked me what had changed earlier. What happened to me.”

“Eris, you need to breathe,” she said even as her heart rate went wild, a hand clenching his arm. “I am listening but I need you to breathe.”

But Eris shook his head and before Iris could open her mouth to say anything else, his expression fell and the grip on the back of her neck tightened once more. “You.” his whisper broken and his eyes watched her wildly, wrapping her in his arm as his flame licked every inch of her. He held her to him tightly, as if afraid she would disappear and slip through his trembling fingers. “You. You. Tell me you see it. Tell me you fucken feel it.”

Iris stared at him. She stared and stared and stared and that feeling, that tug she had felt in her ribcage earlier, seemed to intensify. What he was saying — what he was insinuating. It had crossed her mind only briefly, for one hopeful moment earlier, and yet — here he was, saying — he was saying —

Something had been different since that kiss. Something had been different about him since the moment she met him. 

“I — I felt you.” Iris found herself saying then swallowed. “When you were gone and took long. I don’t know how else to describe it but…I felt you.”

“You did?” he asked, nodding. “And what did it feel like?”

“A tug.” she said slowly. “Right in my ribcage. I feel it right now.”

Eris laughed a hollow laugh as he watched her beautiful face, her expression shifting as her mind processed what he was saying. 

And Iris blinked. “I kissed you.”

“You did.”

“And everything — it felt so right.”

“You said things were always intense between us.” he said quickly. “That we couldn’t fight the pull we felt towards each other despite the way our relationship started.”

“Yes.”

“You kissed me.” he said almost desperately. “And every single thing in my life suddenly made sense. Every part of me made of stone suddenly became covered in you. Like ivy, wrapping its way around me whether I liked it or not. It was something I had never thought would be mine or something I deserved and yet somehow, this is happening. This is real.” 

Iris felt her body start to tremble at his words, the feeling inside her chest unfurling as every moment they had shared together flashed through her mind. Nothing about their relationship had made sense and yet, the two of them seemed to have been destined to find each other. Everything about them, Eris and Iris, fit together like puzzle pieces they hadn’t known were missing. She hadn’t been able to stop him from planting roots within every part of her mind and body, long before she realized what was happening — even when she had wanted nothing to do with him. 

He had always been hers and she, his.

Iris stared into his eyes, watching the hope mingle with the desperation he felt, and her hands slacked at her sides. She had spent her life adrift. Alone. She had spent her life barely mattering to anyone at all. Forgotten. And now, in a twist of fate, Iris had found something she hadn’t realized she was even worthy of.

Eris Vanserra had appeared in her life and what she had assumed would be a walk to the gallows, a nightmare like the one he had just returned from, was anything but. He was anything but.

He was her beginning, her middle, and would be her forever. 

They had both been lost only to be found within one another, the red string of fate guiding their path. 

“This is real.” she finally said and Eris nodded, his gaze never leaving hers.

“This is fucken real.” he said hoarsely. “This is very fucken real.”

Every glance. Every touch. Every moment that had angered her and made her laugh. Every moment that had made her feel. It had all been leading her here. 

It had been leading her home. 

Iris took a sharp breath and finally whispered the words, “You’re — you’re my mate.”

[postal-on-my-dude]

We need to talk about the EMH fandom

tldr; long rant on how the emh fandom has a lot of not-so great people in it. Also overlaps with the tribetwelve fandom hence the tags

Recently, being in this fandom, I’ve been seeing a massive influx of discourse over nazis and nazi art. Artists have been putting hate symbols in their HABIT art and EMH art in general. specifically the drawing of one specific artist.

However, I’d like to remind many that this has been going on for a while with many different people in the fandom. So many people in the EMH fandom have admitted to being neo-nazis, and have obsessed over the part of Tribetwelve where HABIT admits he worked with them (which, by the way, was pretty much retconned.) Many say they’ve seen fans of it who have Nazi symbols on their profile, and I’ll admit I’ve seen it as well. Many who do this also do not take it seriously, acting like the Nazis and their symbolism are just some funny cute thing that they can identify with or spread around. In relation to that, users have gotten harassed off servers for even having HABIT or Evan pfps, one stating they were repeatedly called a nazi and people lying and saying their pfp was art by Fvcksnuff, a problematic artist in the fandom. The user was eventually banned after being ridiculed, just for their profile picture being a character. The funny thing is, it wasn’t even HABIT as their profile, it was art of Evan.

Another thing is the romanticism of necrophilia, from specific people headcanoning HABIT as a necrophile and people in the fandom saying they’ve been getting anons asking what they think of the headcanon. The fandom has had a very long history of paraphilia romanticism (necrophilia and zoophilia, mainly), such as the disrespect towards the boundaries of the literal creators and actors, one of them who has specifically stated they DO NOT want rape fanfics of them on ao3. Many people fandom ignore these boundaries, by the way.

Lastly, in relation to that, there’s the sexualization of the actors, which they’ve admitted makes them very uncomfortable, specifically Evan. Please stop sexualizing HABIT or Evan. They may be characters, but a real person plays said characters. Many have acknowledged this and ignored it completely, especially people on Pinterest or tiktok. One of my mutuals has been one to witness and experience this, getting increasingly sexual and creepy comments on his HABIT pins. He’s told people to stop, but people didn’t listen and continued to make him uncomfortable. He admitted that it got so bad he started turning off all comments on his posts since he didn’t want to see those comments anymore. this has also happened on tiktok, where if you go into the comments of any video about habit, they will be overly sexual and explicit, even if the topic of the video isnt inherently sexual.

It’s not just a vocal minority. This fandom has a LOT of awful people just hiding around in it.

The fandom recently has been a dumpster fire of discourse upon discourse, and it’s disheartening to see. Harassment, threats, and general discord. II’d like to say that instead of arguing and arguing, we drive the people who do this out of the fandom. If you want a better community in this fanbase, you need to do something to MAKE it better.

If you have anything other problem about this fandom you think I should research and add to the post, please share.

[sunnitheapollokid]

*. ࿐ ˚₊✩₊ daughter of apollo — nightbreaker, plague-bearer, bulls-eye shooter, SUNNI! ⭐️

➳ sunni in the pjoverse headcanons.

☀️ sunni’s notes : GUUYYS! i did it!! lots of hyping for this,, and I WILL BE TAGGING THOSE I WANNA HEARD HEACANONS FROM!! 💝 like puuuh LEASE <333 i had so much fun writing these uuughh.. take me to camp half-blood i’m actually begging, on my knees 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

୨୧ i’d like to think that she would get claimed privately,, maybe like just if she was bathing under the sun during a summer day— AND BOOM! claimed.

୨୧ campfire singing would be her favorite part of the day <3.

୨୧ will and kayla are really close,, but SUNNI AND AUSTIN ARE CLOSE. i’m really serious—

୨୧ will’s more healing oriented, kayla’s more archery oriented. but these two are definitely more music / the arts oriented.

୨୧ also close with all her half-blood sisters (obv,, looking at u zuzu and leah)

୨୧ holds camp ground tours for the newcomers!

୨୧ biggest secret candy stash. it’s the pinkie pie in her i fear.

୨୧ SHE LOOOVES all the campers! friends with alot of them <3

୨୧ but has a soft spot for the kids of aphrodite, iris, and poseidon.

୨୧ definitely moreee chaotic than her siblings i’d think?? like—

୨୧ i saw this headcanon that kids of apollo get a zapping feeling in their neck when they lie.

୨୧ BUT SUNNI.. I FEAR.. 😭

୨୧ “sunni, you ate all my cookies?”

୨୧ “no?”

୨୧ *zap!*

୨୧ “why’d you flinch like that?”

୨୧ “flinch like what??”

୨୧ genuinely can’t sleep without a night light.

୨୧ didn’t see apollo as her dad at first because of resentment from leaving her mom like that, but after the events of trials of apollo, she grew to like him.

୨୧ was one of the first apollo kids to soften to him.

୨୧ not the worst at archery, but also not the best.

୨୧ LOVES SWIMMING!! it’s such a summer activity, she loves it so much.

୨୧ also very colorful?? always stacked in jewelry??

୨୧ was thought of as a daughter of iris or hermes at first, but it wasn’t THAT shocking that she’d be a daughter of apollo.

୨୧ biggest hugger,, i’m so dead serious.

୨୧ her siblings don’t mind physical touch, but she’s always the first to initiate.

୨୧ the most blind out of all her siblings, but refuses to wear her glasses.

୨୧ when she’s stuck in the infirmary tending to campers, she has those cute cartoon bandaids for them.

୨୧ you’ll find her stuck in the arts n’ crafts cabin or reading most of the time!!

୨୧ most likely to be good friends with rachel dare, leo valdez (bf bf bf), hazel levesque, travis stoll.

୨୧ such a scout and d.i.y girl, you need something? she’ll have it for you!

୨୧ called ‘sunshine’ a lot!

୨୧ favorite artists include ; taylor swift, ABBA, sabrina, dayglow, kali uchis.

୨୧ will sing the hamilton and mamma mia soundtrack with pride <3.

might add more to this,, these are just some from the top of my head!! + let me hear your camp-half blood headcanons of yourself nd tag some others if u wanna! ♡ (no pressure hehe.) 💐

@canonfeminine @pinkdiorluvr @maybxlle @auroraofthesun1 @nuncscioquidsitamor-14 @hopelesslyromanticshark @gentlehue + anyone who wants to tbh!!

[imagineredwood]

Daddy Yandere Chibs with A? Number 3?

I have a HUNGER for Daddy!!!

Summary: Chibs has honored your foolish wishes for a separation for the last month, but you still haven't come to your senses yet, so it's time for Daddy to bring you back home; by any means necessary.

Warnings: ...it's a yandere drabble 🧍🏻‍♀️ So stalking, manipulation, what could be perceived as emotional abuse because of the manipulation. As always, these are just for fun, not to be taken as a healthy or safe relationship. No means no and turning up at someone's work when they don't want you to or anywhere they're at for that matter is creepy af in real life!! Also daddy kink. I wrote it with somewhat of a big age gap in mind but it doesn't have to be read like that 💕

Also just as a reminder, since dark content isn’t for everyone, I don’t use the regular tag lists for these, only specific taglist for those who want to read the darker content. I wouldn’t want to expose someone that didn’t want to read it. So if you DO want to be tagged, let me know

"You shouldn't be here. This is my workplace. I don't have time for this."

Chibs didn't flinch as you rejected him, his stance relaxed as he leaned against the wall of your breakroom. He'd been dying to see you. He'd given you the space you had asked for, knowing that of course that wasn't what you truly wanted. But he'd given it to you anyway. You would see soon enough that being apart from him wasn't actually what you wanted at all. Yet it was going on a month now, and he had decided that enough was enough.

So he'd ridden over to your job to get you back and now here you were, acting as if you were simply too busy to speak to the man who had loved and protected you these last few years.

"Oh course ya do, Lass. You're on break. You've got,"

He made a show of looking down at his watch and calculating.

"Got 24 minutes left of break, I reckon."

You swallowed dryly, realizing that he did have a point. You took your break at the same time every day. You'd used that break to talk to him on the phone most days. Of course, he would remember. So you tried a different tactic.

"How did you even get in here? It's employees only back here."

The Son nodded, eyes warm as they regarded you, a hint of playful ridicule there as well.

"I've lived in this town a long while, love. Longer than you. All I had to do was ask."

He pulled off the wall then, standing at his full height, taking each slow step one at a time.

"Everyone knows me here. Knows us. All that yellin' about me being so controlling, yet you didn't tell your work to keep me out?"

You gulped as he stalked toward you, eyes on you every second.

"Didn't put me on some kinda list? Didn't tell them that if they saw me to call the cops? None of that?"

You stared at him as your heart pounded in your chest. He wouldn't hurt you; never. But you wouldn't put it past him to somehow manipulate you and the situation into ending with you giving him another chance. All if would take is the feeling of his hands, warm and loving as they caressed you, and your resolve would fall apart. And he knew as much.

You took one more step back and bumped against the wall, the giant silver fridge blocking you on one side, and Chibs arm coming up to block the other. You whimpered, willing yourself to be strong as the scent of leather, cologne, and cigarette smoke flooded your senses. It all smelled just exactly as you remembered and you ached for him, the stone you'd fortified around your heart beginning to crumble.

"Even with all the arguments and disagreements, you know you've always been safest with me. Safe, and at home. You've proven your point. It's time for you to come home with Daddy now, yeah?"

You hesitated for a moment before your head was nodding slowly of its own volition. The Son clicked his teeth and offered you a smile then, eyes trailing down your front. He brought a ringed finger up and traced down the valley of your breasts, eyes raking over you how a lion would a gazelle. His voice was low when he spoke again.

"Twenty minutes left."

"Huh?"

The sentence threw you off, your break no longer on your mind as you looked at him.

"You've got twenty minutes left before they start looking for you, so I've got time. You look delicious. I won't stop until I've dated every bite."

Dark fiction taglist 

@whitetxilwxlf @kikijackson-blog @ben-c-group-therapy @ravennaortiz @mama-mischief

[multifandom-worlds]

Missing in Action

Genre: angst

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Suicide, mental health struggles, grief, death (in passing), violence, bullying.

Authors Note: Hi everyone! This is going to be a bit of a heavier fic. If it's to much for you to handle, that's okay! Take care of yourself. This does have a bit of a happier ending. If I missed anything in the warnings, do let me know!

Ape - Bee

Bellissima - beautiful

Tagging: @slytherins-heir @simplyholl

The Battle of Hogwarts -- one of the bloodiest battles in the Second Wizard War, and you lived to tell the harrowing tales. You were one of the lucky ones.

 A year and a half had passed since then, the castle had been rebuilt, and the dead were laid to rest. It took a year for classes to resume, but here you were again, going through the routine again with your closest friends - Draco Malfoy, who bravely fought against his parents on the side of good, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire and Regulus Black. Although things were getting back to normal, a significant part of your group was missing. Mattheo Riddle, son of the Dark Lord himself but, more importantly, your beloved, was gone. 

Mattheo was not among the survivors at the end of the war, nor was his body found within the ruined castle rubble. The professors and Ministry of Magic alike scoured the school grounds in search of anything, but nothing could be seen of him. The mystery of his disappearance deepened, with rumours of what happened to him beginning to spread. One thing all the rumours had in common was painting Mattheo as a hero - the prodigal son of the Dark Lord, standing up against him, holding off the death eaters while many students fled. He was one of the many unsung heroes of the war, his fate uncertain.

As the months progressed and nobody ever found any trace of Mattheo, the hope of his survival began to drop. First, it was the Ministry. A few months later, the professors gave up hope that he was alive. Just recently, Theo had finally given up hope that he was still alive. You heard him talking in the Great Hall about it.

“What do you lot think? Is he actually coming back?” Theo asks, his voice calm. It was not quite a whisper, but it was not his total volume. “Do you believe Matt was actually able to survive the war? Survive all the shit he endured? Are we just kidding ourselves and holding onto false hope?”

Draco shook his head, looking around for you, hoping you weren’t in earshot. “There’s no way. He could not possibly have survived. I heard that on the second anniversary, they’re going to add his name to the In Memory speech. It seems as though everyone has accepted it now, except her.”

“I’ll tell her,” Theo says dejectedly. He didn’t want to break your heart even more. “It’s best it comes from me. I don’t want her to get blindsided by the news when it happens; she already has nightmares every night about the war. Like the rest of us, she carries those scars, mental and physical. She won’t like it.” he trails off with a deep sigh, placing his head in his hands, mentally psyching himself up to go have this conversation yet again. 

He leaves the Great Hall in the direction of the Slytherin dorms. It wasn’t hard to know where you would be - you spent all your time in his bed, wearing his clothes and, in Theo’s mind, prolonging your hurt.

“You’re wrong, Theo!” You whimper, staring at your boyfriend's best friend standing at the door to his and Mattheo’s dorm. “He can’t be gone! There’s no way he's gone! We killed his father! You were the one who cast the curse!”

He opens the door of the dorm, seeing you sitting on his bed, reading your book, his pillow between your arms. “Hey, we have to talk.” He says, leaning against the doorframe. “They want to add his name to the list of students who died. I think it's time, Bellissima. I think you need to let him go. He died protecting the school, its students and you.”

Theo sighs, running his fingers through his curls. “Ape, he’s gone. There are so many places his body could be that would have been hidden. Yes, we killed his father, but that does not mean he didn’t have a hand in his death. I miss him, too. I miss him like you wouldn’t believe it, but you need to accept that he’s gone. He would want you to move on, apa.”

Your tears began to slide down your cheeks as Theo carefully sat beside you, wrapping his arms around you protectively. It didn’t take long for your whimpers to turn into full sobs as you hid your face against his chest. Words can not describe how terrible Theo felt at that moment, holding you once again as you sobbed into his chest. He wanted you to move on, to move on from all the pain and memories that place had, but until Mattheos body was recovered, he knew it was impossible. He held you as you cried, resting his chin on the top of your head, just as he has done almost nightly since the battle ended. 

Theo pulls you away from him once all your tears dried up.  “Please come for dinner, ape. The others are asking about you, and I want you to eat something, please.” He brushes your hair from your face, looking at you earnestly.

You nod softly, wiping your eyes. “O-okay. I do miss Reggie and Ferret Boy.” you chuckle at the nickname. Draco absolutely hated it, but he begrudgingly accepted it from you. “And obviously Enzo.”

Theo stands up first, taking your hand and carefully helping you to your feet, his hands on your shoulders to keep you balanced. Once you finished mentally preparing yourself, you take his arm, leave the dorm, and make your way upstairs to the Great Hall. You keep your eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Theo keeps you close; his imposing height and proclivity for fighting keep everyone away from the two of you. 

“There she is.” You could hear Draco say as you and Theo step into the Great Hall. Tentatively, you look up, meeting the eyes of your favourite ferret. He smiles, waving you over. You and Theo make your way to the Slytherin table before joining your friends. “You look good, Bee,” Draco says once you’re sitting between him and Lorenzo. 

“Fuck yeah, you do,” Enzo says next, pulling you into a side hug, and Theo rounds the table and sits across from you, beside Regulus. “I missed having my favourite Slytherin around. It’s not the same without you.”

“You see me in class every day, Enz…” You mutter, looking at him. You had no idea why they missed you because you still went to all your classes with them. “I’m still around; I don’t know what you mean?”

“I just mean...” Lorenzo begins, but a second voice interrupts him. You look up and see Cormac McLaggen standing just behind Regulus and Theo, a stupid, cocky smile plastered on his face. 

“He means your depressed ass isn’t worth being around,” Cormac says, his friends laughing at the face you were making, your eyes welling up with tears. “Fuckin’ crybaby. If you miss that cunt so much, why not join him? Just do it in front of me so I can enjoy you.” 

Within seconds of the last sound leaving Cormac’s mouth, Theo was on his feet, colliding his fist into Cormac’s nose, sending him sprawling against the empty table behind him. Before anyone realized what had happened, Theo was on him, landing punch after punch into his face. 

Regulus joins in, the two of them taking turns being Cormac’s face until he is 50 shades of black and blue. His nose bent at a noticeable angle, his eyes were actively swelling and already turning black, and his cheek caved in. Several of his fingers bent out of shape, and he most certainly had several broken ribs. He lays motionless on the table, barely conscious as Madame Pomfry and McGonagall come rushing over.

“Mr. Nott, Mr. Black, what is the meaning of this!?” McGonagall demands, looking between Cormac and the two Slytherins. 

Theo looks up at her, his lips pulled into a tight line, his whole body tense. “He called Mattheo a cunt, called his girlfriend a crybaby and told her to kill herself in front of him so he could fuck her dead body.” He stated matter of factly. He knew he was justified in his merciless beating. 

“And I meant every fucking word. She’s a depressed bitch who needs to join her” beloved” if she missed him that much” Theo, Regulus and McGonagall could hear Cormac's strained laughter after he finished speaking. 

Theo grabs him by his collars, hauling him up so their faces are inches apart. “If I hear you say anything about her or Mattheo, I will cut out your tongue with a pair of rusty scissors and watch you bleed to death. Got that, Cormac?” Theo drops him back on the table, spitting in his face before turning around and seeing you hiding your face against Draco’s jacket. 

“Detention for you both! And 50 points from Slytherin. Each.” McGonagall states, looking between Theo and Regulus before turning her attention to you. “As for you, dear. This really is not good for you; you need to accept that Mr. Riddle is no longer with us. You need to move on and focus on your academics.” 

“Excuse me…” you mutter, pushing away from Draco and running out of the Great Hall. You blink away tears as you navigate through the school. You didn’t know where you were going; you just needed to know you had to get away. Away from everyone who believed he was dead, away from everyone who told you to move on. Away from it all. 

You found yourself at the top of the Astronomy tower, looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. You sigh, remembering all the blood and carnage that decorated the grounds years before. You look over at the Forbidden Forest, the last place you saw Mattheo alive. He saved you from a death eater’s imperious curse by casting his very own Unforgivable curse - Avada Kadavra. You didn’t even have a chance to thank him before he was snatched up and dragged away by Fenrir Greyback. The last thing you heard from him was him yelling that he loved you and that he would find you again, in this life or the next. 

You could hear a commotion below you on the grounds, but you paid it no mind. You were tired, tired of everyone telling you he was dead, tired of everyone bringing it up, tired of looking at your body in the mirror and seeing all the scars from that cursed battle on your skin, forced to relive it day after day. The PTSD was too much for you to handle, so you decided to jump, to end everything once and for all. You knew Theo and Regulus would be in detention; Draco and Enzo were probably tormenting them, so there was no one to stop you. 

You pull your robes off, folding them neatly on the ground before grabbing your phone and writing a quick note, an explanation of why you did it. You carefully place your phone on top of your robes before stepping back up to the railing, intending to throw yourself off it when your phone rings. You picked it up again, only to see Theo’s name pop up. Odd, he should be in detention right now; you decide to answer it, acutely aware it could be one of Cormac’s minions ready to continue what he started. 

“Hello…?” You answer timidly, walking back to the railing. The commotion happening below you was getting louder. Clearly, you were about to have an audience.

“Don't do it, my love. I need you!” The voice on the phone sounded too much like Mattheo, but you knew it couldn't be. He was dead; everyone believed it, and you were going to be next.

“Who are you, and why do you have Theo’s phone? He’s in detention right now.” You say, anger beginning to surge to the surface. 

“You know who I am, love. Please, please don’t. Don’t listen to Cormac, he’s a scumbag. I need you; Theo and Reggie need you. Draco and Enzo need you to. We all need you. Please, my love, don’t do it.”

Your hand grips your phone, trembling. “I'm going to do it. Cormac was right. I'm going to jump and put an end to everyone's misery.”

The voice began talking again, sounding frantic. “Please, baby. Please don't jump. I can't bear to watch my only light extinguish herself. Please, Theo's on his way to get you, but please, please step away from the railing.”

“I don't know who I'm talking to, but it's not Mattheo. I don't believe you! You're just made up, a figment of my imagination. You're not real! He’s dead, and everyone believes it! But I'm going to be joining him soon!” You step forward, swinging one leg over the railing, tears streaming down your face. 

“Mon Coeur, please….” 

You swing your other leg over the railing, looking down at the dizzying height, ready to let go, when a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you back to safety. 

“No! Let me go! I want to do it! I want to end it all! Please just let me join him!” You cry, fighting with whoever it was that grabbed you. 

The arms wrap tighter around you before a familiar Italian accent hits your ears. “Ape, he's alive. You were right. He's at the bottom of the stairs. Come down, come with me, and we can see him together.” 

“You're wrong, Theo! You told me he's dead! You and everyone else kept telling me he was dead and I needed to move on. Why are you tormenting me like this? Why are you doing this? Please just let me die.” You sob, fighting against Theo’s grip. 

Theo rests his chin on your head. “If you're not going to walk down these steps, I'm going to carry you down, but we are going,” he says, very matter-of-factly. You give up, knowing Theo is serious. He notices the call is still connected, so he grabs the phone from your hand and puts it to his ear. “I have her; she’s safe in my arms. We're on your way down, Matt.” 

“Oh, thank Merlin. Okay, I'll see you two soon.” Mattheo says a wave of relief washing over him. He was so thankful she believed he was still alive. If only he had gotten to you sooner, maybe you wouldn't have fallen this far into the darkness. All that mattered was he was about to see you again for the first time since the battle.

You and Theo slowly begin to descend the stairs; he has his arm wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you stable since your anxious trembling makes each stair dangerous. The closer to the bottom you got, the more your heart pounded in your chest. Theo wouldn’t lie…right? He wouldn’t pretend Mattheo was alive and the voice on the phone sounded so much like him, but it couldn’t possibly be him. You knew what Greyback was capable of; there’s no way Mattheo survived that.

You and Theo arrive at the bottom of the stairs, and there, standing right in front of you, is Mattheo - an older, more scarred and more traumatized version of Mattheo, but it is still Mattheo, your Mattheo.

You let go of Theo, nervously walking towards him. “Matty…?” You ask, gently touching his cheek. He cups your hand with his, leaning into your touch, his eyes meeting yours. You knew those soulful brown eyes anywhere; this is your Mattheo.

He smiles, taking your hand and kissing your palm, just as he always did before. “In the flesh, Mon Coeur. I missed you so much. I dreamt about you every night when I wasn’t plagued with nightmares. I was so scared you had either died or moved on, and I would never have you in my arms again, never wake up with your perfect face, never listen to you talk about everything you loved. Draco told me you never gave up hope, even when everyone else did. Thank you, baby. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“But how…?” you question, meeting his eyes, pleading with him. “How are you still alive? E-everyone believed you died…I saw you! I saw Greyback take you! A-are you really him?” You ask, step away, your suspicions growing. This has to be some sort of prank.

Mattheo’s face fell, his smile replaced by a heartbroken frown. “I promise, I am who I say I am. What can I do to make you believe me, amour?” 

You look at him, wanting so desperately to believe. “How did you survive? Where were we, and what was the last thing you said to me?”

“We were in the forbidden forest; I told you I love you, and I would find you in this world or the next.” He smiles, seeing the doubt melt away from your eyes. “And as for how I survived. My brother. Tom.”

[smolvenger]

First Lady (President Loki x fem! Reader blurb)

Summary: It's not easy being in the spotlight as First Lady of the Nation. But your President's Husband knows what to do when your online critics take it too far.

Or "Who did this to you?" with President Loki.

Word Count: 1318 (blurb time)

Warnings: SMUT! 18 + (wall diddling, whee), online bullying and harassment (inspired from my own personal experience, whee) mention of sex. Angst and then fluff and hurt/comfort. I steal ideas from Ana Huang and Sadie Kincaid. Bad grammar. I had writer's block with this one and was stuck so not as revised and polished as I could be bc I just wanted this done, I'm not Shakespeare or Donna Tartt okay? If I miss a warning, please inform me at once. Don't victim blame those affected, Report it! If you see something disturbing or triggering that isn't tagged that I missed, then that is on me to take accountability for it and it is your responsibility to report it!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Dick-Tionary: The exact, more explicit smut begins at “Open wide, my dear.” and ends at "He gently let you down."

Something about the internet gave people anonymity and with that came power. They could say and do what they wanted…even the vilest things.

Comment after comment. Ding after ding on your phone. There were posts about how you were wrong. Irresponsible because they didn’t like your cause of supporting raising minimum wages. Even under posts where you were talking about the importance of your cause, so many people went “Well, to be fair-” 

You couldn’t help but look at more about you.

Stupid. 

Ugly. 

A pig.

And those were the tamer ones. 

The constant bullying and demands from these people. You thought you were qualified for this. That you knew your way around tenfold. Dolled up in your nice dress and makeup…and here you were, crying. Wanting to throw a fit. Wanting to scream and call them vile, horrible things. T sob until you couldn’t breathe and crash down, heels, pearls, lipstick and all.  No better than a little girl playing dress up. Not an adult who handled everything with strength and grace. Not a First Lady of an entire country.

You should be strong. Thick-skinned. “Don’t take it personally” was the advice everyone gave you. Every single time. Without fail. But at this point, it just numbed in your head. What did that even mean? It meant nothing. Like “thoughts and prayers” maybe at once it could help, and has helped but now…it was just a phrase people threw out that fixed nothing.  And how could you not take a comment beneath your post telling you to not take it personally?

You found yourself stumbling onto the Oval Office adn there he was- your husband in folden horns. A crowd of suited men around him.

He noticed your state. You had no time to compose yourself. But he raised a hand and their chatting voices silenced.

“Everyone! Leave- now!” he ordered, snapping his fingers.

They ducked and left. A few careful eyes at your frazzled, pensive state.

He went over and looked at you. Then he put one hand and put it under your cheek so you faced him. His voice was soft, yet subtly angry not at you, but at your tormenters. 

“My darling…who did this to you?”

You sniffed. Then you answered him.

“All of the comments…online…I know I have to. It’s part of the platform. A First Lady has to have social media…but…but…”

He wiped a tear. Then you leaned onto him. His cold buttons grazed your cheek and he let you cling to him. Let yourself break down.

“What am I even doing? Why should I say or do anything online? They just want to tear you apart and spit you out! And they just want a lady who looks pretty and does or says nothing. Even when I wear anything, they tell me I look like cat vomit. I can’t win whatever I do, Loki. And the split second I try to do anything, say anything they…they..”

“Give me your phone,” he said.

You handed it to him. From his pocket, he took out a chip and attached it to yours.

“Firstly,  I’m taking this away from you for now. You will get a new one for communication. I will not have my wife and First Lady miserable.”

 He set the chip in.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping track of them. We’re going to track them down. They’re going to regret every word of it…here…”

He sat down on the chair in the center and tapped his lap.

“Sit.”

How could you resist?

He set you on his lap. He pulled out his personal phone and immediately was making calls. You leaned into him, snuggling him close. 

“Yes, Grant, I want you to hire a Social Media manager for the First Lady. Have the comments filtered and in need of approval before posted. Also, look for security. There are several people we must hunt down. They have threatened the security of the first lady. The tracker is on her phone, we’ll analyze the data on the comments and find each and every one of them- they cannot go on without consequence, don’t you think? Freedom of Speech is overrated anyway…hurry along, do it now- no- Grant, I don’t care if you’re about to get a blowjob from the Black Widow this second, I want you to do it!”

He ended the call.

He held you. And then kissed you. You leaned in more. How handsome he looked- his suit fixed up. His smirk was confident, rakish. You found you were straddling him, his hands on your hips. As you kissed again, he pushed his tongue inside.

“Oh…Loki…”

He raised your skirt some, to feel your bare leg.

“I feel if I make you cum, that would make you feel better…wouldn’t it?”

He slid a hand and saw you weren’t wearing underwear at your hip bone. 

He tilted his head, his voice even quieter. 

“And you followed my one little rule, too. Good girl.”

He held up the phone one last time, pressing a call.

“Barton, cancel my meeting for this hour. Reschedule it. Emergency, shall we say.”

Before the man on the other end could ask why he hung it up.

He smiled at you.

“Open wide, my dear.”

Keeping your legs open, he adjusted them to wrap around him. He backed you up to part of the wall. Not caring about the curtains of the window. Not caring about the security cameras.

 In fact, let them watch if they want.

He kissed you intensely, his tongue inside and out. Tasting you. He lifted your skirt to your hips, backing you up. You hung onto him, shaking with wet, desperate need as he undid the zipper of his trousers.

“I’m going to fuck you. Fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk and live the next week curled up in the lap of luxury, how does that sound?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Please- fuck me, Loki-”

“I’m the President-” he corrected.

“Fuck me, Mr. President-” you quietly begged.

He entered briskly. You let out a loud gasp. But you were already so soaked from him, it was clear. He kissed you again. One hand going to move one of your legs to hook around his waist. 

He only slowed down so he could speak, his eyes intense. 

“Yes, moan louder. I want them all to hear- I don’t care who hears- or sees. I want them-to- to know you’re mine- My little doll. My little toy. My First Lady- my wife-”

Your breasts bounced lewdly as he picked up speed, thrusting in and out of you. He pounded you so much, the portraits shook. You held onto his shoulders, and then his horns on his head. He was grunting like a madman.

He fucked hard, his hand digging.

“I want you to cry out, say what I am as you cum. I am Loki, I am your president, I rule you- say it- say it, fuck, I’m cumming-I’m going to-say it.”

You cried his title, your throat scratchy. Pleasure breaking on you, as well as on him.

He gently let you down. You adjusted his dark curls. He smoothed your dress, though your legs wobbled. The bliss of ecstasy makes you forget what even happened just an hour ago.

“Now…how do you feel now?” he asked.

You took in a deep breath, the blood still rushing and the world spinning.

“Better…” you replied. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist. But he traced a finger down your spine, into your skirt.

“Good. Because I’m going to order some…gifts for you tonight. For you to wear beneath these dresses and skirts and blouses. And I want us to have dinner- just us. And when I rip off your clothes, that lace will be on you. Because, my dear, once this next meeting is done…we are far from over with this.”

[cirtusmistress]

He Follows - Fixation

Mahito is met with someone who is his true opposite, and a mutual curiosity blooms.

Mahito x Reader

Tags: Angst and Feels, Tragedy, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance, Mahito Being an Asshole, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Eventual Romance, Not Beta Read, Mahito POV, Verbal Abuse

AO3 Crosspost

Word Count: 1.7k

You were endlessly fascinating to him. Though he had little interest in humans outside of his experiments, he couldn’t help but be enamored by your every move. You had cursed energy, so no doubt you were aware of his presence everywhere you went. And yet you never looked at him. Never spoke to him. You merely kept pressing on. Why? Was he not interesting enough for you? Surely someone such as himself was far more intriguing than any other human you came across day after day. He stood out, he could tell you that for free. Blue hair and covered in patchwork skin? What human looked like that! 

Mahito had only existed for a short few months. Though he held incredible intellect he was still much like a child. Still growing, learning. Everyday was something new, something fascinating. Learning how to use his cursed technique, interact, manipulate. All things that would aid him in his end goal of creating a world without humans. 

So one day when he was simply people watching - looking for a new playmate to experiment on no doubt, he couldn’t remember - he saw you. Helpless, innocent you. Walking along with your bag of convenience store goods in hand, and with a small gaggle of low level curses parading behind you. Though they weren’t stalking you. No.. They were following you willingly. Mahito watched from his perch up high on a residential building. How when you walked, they followed. How when you stopped at a crosswalk a flyhead landed on your shoulder. And you smiled at it! You weren’t a sorcerer, he could tell from where he sat. Your energy level was far too low. And yet, you somehow commanded those curses. How could it be so?

He had followed you home that day. Thanks to the quick mastery of his own technique, he was able to contort and morph himself into a Fly Head. Well, as close as he could manage. He joined your little parade and followed all the way to your small single bedroom apartment. You paid no mind to the extra curse in your home, simply going about your chores. Mahito watched with the other curses. Had you perhaps used some kind of technique to bribe them? Maybe some kind of cursed spirit manipulation? Finally you sat at your little coffee table and pulled out something from your convenience store bag. Ice cream. Those ones that came in cones, prepackaged and ready to go. You had four, and laid three of them out in front of you and the curses. 

“Go ahead,” You said with a gentle smile, “These ones are for you guys.” Once they had your go ahead, the spirits began eating your offering. Mahito was.. Shocked. Low levels like these couldn’t think for themselves like this. Let alone eat! And yet he buzzed there as the curses who looked like bugs and mutants and grotesque little things nibbled away. Making happy little sounds all the while. You ate your own treat with this.. Stupidly sweet genuine smile on your face. Then you saw him. The odd Fly Head who hadn’t moved. Your head tilted, so did Mahito’s. Then the other way, and he followed. And then you smiled at him, as sweet and genuine as it had been to the others. And something rippled inside him.

“Haven’t seen you before! I didn’t know you all came in different colours!” You laughed, holding out your own ice cream in his direction, “Well welcome. You’re safe here with me. Do you want some? C’mon!” You jiggled your hand in his direction as if you tempt him like a cat you found on the street. Mahito didn’t quite know what he was feeling. Why were you.. Being so kind? To this trash? These low level curses that hardly had brains! Were you stupid? Not knowing these creatures around you could suck you dry, weigh you down, make you miserable? It was overwhelming for Mahito. So he simply gave in and played along. He sampled the treat you offered. It was sweet. And he liked it.

Ever since that encounter Mahito had followed you everywhere you went. To work, the shops, out on excursions. Sometimes in the form of another creature, sometimes lagging behind as just himself. Having studied you up close he’d confirmed none of the lower grades were under your control in some way. Everything they did they were doing willingly. Why? Why did they do it? What did you offer these things that they could not obtain from just being curses? What did you have that he just couldn’t understand? What had you made him feel that day, and every day since?

He was pondering these thoughts at a park on his lonesome one day. He had tired of waiting for you to come out for your lunch break so he’d wandered off. He lazily swung back and forth on a swing, mind putting along as your methods all but tortured him. And then he heard your voice. 

“Hello.” He leaned back in his swing, looking at you upside down. You took a few steps back to make room for him, though you did not run away. “You’re the one who keeps following me right?” You asked, folding your hands in front of you. So you had noticed him! And here he thought himself invisible! Mahito rose his feet as he began to swing again. 

“Perhaps,” He mused, “Who’s asking?” Despite being curious, Mahito was still in many ways a childish being. Straight-forward answers were not in his wheelhouse. 

He heard you step around him and take a seat in the swing to his left, “The person you’ve been following for four weeks.” Your tone was still soft and your voice was like honey on his ears. Why had he waited for you to make contact? “I wasn’t sure if you were human or one of my little friends. You’re not like them.”

“You mean those curses?” Mahito asked, pointing past you. You glanced to see your ‘friends,’ all huddled together underneath a jungle gym. Smart enough to hide from Mahito. His energy was enough to scare them. He had grown that much in a mere four weeks.. 

“Curses?” Your brows quirked up, “I wouldn’t call them curses. They’re harmless once you get to know them.” You looked back at him. Mahito felt his own innocence being reflected in your eyes. You truly had no clue what kind of company you kept. Those sweet little things you so cherished were the bane of many peoples' existences. And yet you looked at them like puppies and kittens. What did you see him as then? What was he in the eyes of someone uninformed on the world of curses?  What was he?

“If you knew I was there why didn’t you talk to me?” Mahito asked. You for once let your smile drop. You looked contemplative. Did you yourself not understand your odd mutual fixation? Perhaps two strangers forever caught in one anothers orbit?

“Because,” You spoke but stopped. Your tongue dragged over your lips and Mahito watched so closely. Every movement, every blink, every twitch. The breaths you took, the pulse of your heart, the vibration of your very atoms. “Because I didn’t want to scare you. You looked so.. Lonely.” That word. Lonely. Mahito knew of loneliness. It often came with the very emotion that birthed him. And he had never once thought he was lonely. He was content wasn’t he? Doing his experiments on his own, finding other intelligent spirits to aid in his end goal. He was not lonely, he was never alone. So why did your eyes hurt him? Why did he once again feel compelled to run? Why was your kindness so terrifying?

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black huh?” Mahito jabbed back, dragging his feet until his swing stopped. “All these weeks I haven’t seen you interact with a single person outside of work! All you do is hang around with weak inferior spirits!” He stood as the words erupted from him. Once again, unequipped to handle these sudden emotions. So he did what children did in these situations. He threw a misdirected tantrum. 

“I am not lonely. Why would I ever be lonely? I have friends! People to talk to, play with, show my work to! You’re the lonely one! Too scared to talk to me for weeks on end! God you’re- You’re so pathetic!” Hate was something Mahito knew. He knew how to hurt people. And the look on your face said it all. Never had your unending kindness been met with such aggression. And part of Mahito loved that look on you. But another part of him wept for you. Love was his opposite. Something Mahito knew he could never comprehend. Not truly. He could pretend. Replicate it. Make copy after copy. But never could he match your wavering, unending love. 

He left before you could reply. He could have killed you. Make you into something cruel and grotesque. But the last shred of curiosity he had for you prevented him. Old sentiment. The first bout of it in his short existence. You were left in that park. And though you had just been verbally abused, your heart cried for the blue haired man. How could he not see how badly he was hurting? You could. You saw it in everyone. Everything. Every past failure, every hurt feeling, you could see it. Feel it. Even in those spirits you loved so much. Even in him. He radiated it. And right now all you could do was hope maybe one day, you could speak to him again. And maybe he wouldn’t be so cruel. 

Mahito couldn’t forget you though. Despite how he tried to bury his feelings. He knew you two were polar opposites. One born from hate, and one born to love. You were his foil. And he couldn’t move on. Not until he learned what it felt like. He was in his nature. He needed to know, to feel, to experiment. So after a few days of respite, he began following you again. Farther away this time, but he was there. Watching. And you kept walking. Waiting.

[tinywitchgoblin]

Good, Bad

Hunter x fem!reader x Crosshair, use of she/her but no use of y/n

Summary: nasty smut with Crosshair and Hunter (plot? who’s she?)

Word count: 3.3k (oops)

Warnings: threesome (mmf) NO CLONECEST, unprotected piv sex (wrap it up in real life y’all), mention/use of sex toys and handcuffs, lots of degradation, also lots of praise, honorifics (sir), use of safewords, Tech makes sex toys, edging, face fucking/riding, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, creampies, choking, overstimulation, size kink?, I think that’s it

a/n: I rb’d this post ⬇️ with these tags and got an anon ask to write the fic so here we are!!

a/n 2: this is my first time writing explicitly kink stuff, so if I messed anything big up, please let me know. I did some research, but there’s a possibility that I missed something

What you had with Hunter and Crosshair didn’t really have a label. It wasn’t quite friends with benefits, given that you were exclusive, but you weren’t quite dating, either. What wasn’t ambiguous, however, was that the sex was top-tier. The two of them had lots of experience, and they sure put it to good use. They took you individually, together, in the bedroom, in the closet, in the shower, you name it. This dynamic gave new meaning to the concept of “variety is the spice of life,” and tonight, things were gonna get spicy.

So that’s how you found yourself in your room with the guys, Hunter stood behind you rubbing your shoulders to ease the tension there while Crosshair got things prepared. He’d grabbed lube, a couple of toys, a waterproof blanket for the bed, some water bottles, a couple of toys, and some other supplies to use throughout the evening. 

“You sure you’re up for this mesh’la?” Hunter inquired, always intent on making sure you gave consent. One of his favorite things was asking for your consent enough times to the point where you’d beg for him to fuck you- and he loved every bit of it. 

“Yes, I’m ready,” you affirmed. 

“You remember the safeword system?” Crosshair questioned. 

“Yes, I remember,” you reassured. 

“Then say it back to us. We want to make sure everyone is on the same page, and that we keep you safe,” Hunter asserted. You turned around to look him in the eyes before responding, “Green means ‘keep going’, yellow means ‘slow down’ or ‘proceed with caution’, red means ‘pause’, and black means we’re done for the evening,” you recited. “And I’m green right now; all set to go.”

“Well done, mesh’la, I’m so proud of you,” Hunter murmured, nuzzling into your neck. “So good at being good.”

“There’s no way this little slut would forget the system,” Crosshair whispered from behind you, turning your face towards him before continuing, “We couldn’t fuck it out of her even if we tried. Little cockwhore needs to be filled, and she knows she needs the safewords in order to get what she wants.” 

You let out a little whimper- so that’s the chosen dynamic for tonight. Hunter fed your praise kink, while Crosshair took hold of your need to be degraded. You lovingly referred to it as the ‘good cock, bad cock’ routine. “So… what are things looking like for tonight?”

“You see those toys over there?” Hunter indicated over to the dresser where Crosshair’s little ‘assistants’ for the evening were displayed. “Crosshair is gonna use these on you, and you’re gonna follow his directions exactly. When you do, I get to reward you. Deal?” 

“If she’s good,” Crosshair corrected. “Sometimes the little slut can’t help but break the rules. And if that happens… no reward.”

“She’ll be good,” Hunter asserted. Turning to you, he asked, “Isn’t that right, mesh’la?”

“Yes sir, I’ll be good,” you assured. Hunter gave his brother a knowing look, to which Crosshair gave his usual scowl. 

“Get on the bed, little cumslut,” Crosshair demanded, to which you gave a quiet “yes, sir,”

Crosshair led you over to the bed, grabbing a pair of cuffs on the way. They’d been specially made by Tech for these sorts of situations. In fact, all of the toys on display were ones Tech had made. His were better than any you’d been able to find at a store or online, so they showed up pretty regularly during scenes that involved toys. Holding up the cuffs, he asked, “What color?”

“Green,” you replied, holding your wrists to the bed frame where you knew he’d ask you to put them.

“Good girl, knowing exactly what to do,” Hunter praised, laying down next to you and brushing a hand over your cheek. 

“You give her too much credit, she’s doing exactly what I fucking told her to,” Crosshair retorted. “Little bitch knows I expect nothing less. Isn’t that right, naughty girl?”

“Yes sir,” you responded, but that wasn’t enough.

“Yes sir, what?” Crosshair demanded. 

“Yes sir, I did what you told me to,” you repeated. Hunter decided to stay quiet for the moment, letting Crosshair do as he pleased. Crosshair got up and walked back over to the dresser, looking down at his options for how to proceed. He definitely wanted to use the wand at some point; you always looked so pitiful when edged for long enough, plus hearing you beg to be allowed to cum turned him on like nothing else. He also considered using the buttplug, but that wasn’t the highest thing on his list of priorities at the moment. Browsing over the other options, he grabbed the wand and the lube, figuring he could come back and reevaluate later. 

Meanwhile, Hunter had tilted your face towards him, kissing you gently. As he did so, one of his hands went from holding your face to massaging a breast, earning a moan, which he swallowed eagerly. Noticing that Crosshair was ready to continue, he pulled away, but stayed within arm’s reach to give you support. 

“Color?” Crosshair asked. 

“Green,” you gave, a bit more breathless than before. Hunter’s kisses always did that to you. 

“This is what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to use this wand on you, and you’re not allowed to come. If you do, I’m going to use the cane on you, and for each second of your orgasm, you will receive one hit to the ass. Repeat back to me what I said.”

“You’re going to use the wand on me and edge me. If I come, I get one hit to the ass with the cane for each second of my orgasm.”

Without another word, Crosshair settled between your legs, squirting a bit of lube onto his hands and the wand before turning it on. He dragged it up the inside of your left thigh, watching you squirm, desperately trying to get some sort of friction. Putting down the wand and grabbing your legs, Crosshair forced them open even more. “Keep your legs open, little slut. I’ve seen you do it before, don’t be lazy.”

“You can keep those pretty legs of yours open, right, baby?” Hunter chimed in, brushing a stray hair out of your face. 

“Yes, sirs,” you affirmed, focusing on keeping your legs open and ready as Crosshair kept teasing you with the toy. He would bring it closer to your aching cunt before moving it away. You knew he loved teasing you like this; you also knew he could take his sweet time when he wanted to. Thankfully, he was feeling a bit impatient tonight. 

When he moved the toy to where you needed it most, your body jerked, trying to get more. A strong smack to the thigh told you to keep still as he ghosted the wand over your clit. You focused all of your energy on staying still and keeping your legs open, but it was getting increasingly difficult as Crosshair applied more pressure with the wand. The whole time, you could feel Hunter’s presence next to you, and at one point, he brought one of his hands up to hold yours where they were bound to the bed frame. 

As you felt yourself approaching the precipice, Crosshair pulled the toy away and sat there for a moment, watching your cunt spasm around nothing, longing to be filled. But he wasn’t about to let you get what you wanted so easily. 

“That was me going easy on you,” Crosshair divulged. “It only gets more difficult from here, and remember what I told you would happen if you come before I give you permission. No, tell me what happens if you come early.”

“If I come, I get one hit to the ass with the cane for each second of my orgasm,” you remembered. With a single nod, Crosshair redirected his attention to your pussy, reacquainting it with the wand. Tired from your first edge, your control over your body was slipping, and you felt your orgasm nearing once again. This time, Crosshair kept the wand on for longer, and you had to muster all of your energy to keep from coming. 

Finally, he pulled away, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Looking over towards Hunter, you saw he’d started palming himself, patiently waiting for the show to continue. When he saw you looking at him, he asked, “Think you could help me out with this, mesh’la?”

“How can I help?” you asked, glancing up at your still-bound hands. 

“Let me ride that pretty face of yours. Your mouth always feels so good, and it’ll give you something to concentrate on while Cross is edging you,” he clarified, looking over to Crosshair to make sure he was okay with that idea. With a nod, he looked back to you, he asked, “Is that okay with you? What color?”

“Green,” you responded, looking forward to having Hunter’s cock down your throat. 

“What is Hunter about to do to you, cockslut? Say it back to us,” Crosshair demanded. 

“He’s gonna ride my face and fuck my mouth, use me how he wants,” you whispered, looking over as Hunter climbed over your face. 

“Such a good girl,” Hunter moaned, and without another word, he sunk into your awaiting mouth, grabbing onto the bed frame for balance. Crosshair placed the wand back on your clit, and you moaned around Hunter’s cock as he bottomed out. He held still for a moment, getting used to the feeling of your throat, while you tried to focus on breathing through your nose. He was big, and it had taken a while to train you to be able to take all of him. He moved his hands so that they were holding yours, while still maintaining his balance. 

Crosshair kept his attention trained on edging you a third time. Hunter was right- this time, you were able to concentrate on sucking Hunter off, so you had something to focus your attention on instead of just the sensation from the wand between your legs. Hunter pulled out a bit before pushing back in, content with fucking your mouth nice and slow for the moment. 

As you approached your orgasm a third time, Crosshair sped the motions with the wand, forcing you to choke on Hunter, who only fucked your throat faster in response. As you held your orgasm off the best you could, he pushed into you as far as he could and spilled his cum down your throat. Finally, Crosshair relented, pulling the toy away as Hunter pulled out of your mouth. 

“Color?” Hunter checked. 

“Red. I need some water,” you admitted. Crosshair got off the bed and grabbed one of the water bottles as Hunter climbed off of you and whispered, “You did so, so well, mesh’la. I’m so proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself, too,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you. 

Crosshair brought the water over and you opened your mouth for him to pour some water into. You drank deeply, not realizing how thirsty you actually were. 

“How're you feeling now? What’re you thinking?” Hunter questioned. You took a minute to respond before admitting, “I don’t think I can take any more edges.” You looked over at Crosshair before continuing, “I’m sorry, I wish I could do more.”

“Maybe another night,” Crosshair conceded. “You know your limits, and I won’t cross a boundary. Time to move on?” You nodded in response. Hunter kissed your forehead and added, “You’re doing so well. Your body can only take so much, and you were good for communicating your needs to us. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“And can we take the cuffs off? My shoulders are starting to hurt,” you clarified. 

“Of course,” Crosshair affirmed, unlocking the cuffs and bringing your arms down slowly so as to not cause any more pain. Hunter massaged your shoulders, alleviating some of the pain that had built up there. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the break in activity when Crosshair came back over to the bed, buttplug in hand. “Think you’re up for this?”

You thought for a moment before responding, “Not tonight.”

“Look at you, setting boundaries. Such a good girl,” Hunter praised. “Is there something that we can do that you want to try? Another toy, a different position?”

“What does our filthy little cockslut want to try next?” Crosshair added, reaching over and tugging on your hair a bit. 

“I wanna come,” you begged. “I need to come so bad, please-”

“Shhh, we’ll take good care of you,” Hunter reassured, taking you in his arms. He sat back against the bed frame, pulling you with him and depositing you on his lap with your legs bracketed outside his own, legs spread wide so that Crosshair could see how wet and swollen your pussy was. 

“Wanna be a good girl and give Crosshair a show?” Hunter murmured in your ear. “Show him how pretty you look when you come on my fingers?”

“Yes sir,” you moaned, desperate to finally get your release. Normally, Hunter would take his time worshiping every inch of your body before even considering going down on you, but he knew how badly you needed to come. He brought his hand down to your aching pussy, circling around your clit a few times before massaging your entrance and slowly pushing a finger in. You gasped, grinding and clenching down on his finger. 

“Such a little whore, so desperate and aching just from one finger,” Crosshair chided, laser focused on where Hunter’s finger disappeared inside you. Hunter pushed a second finger in with the first and began curling them against your g-spot, making you see stars and squirm around in his lap. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you close to him, whispering, “You’re doing so well, letting me finger you like this. Let’s get you that orgasm, yeah?”

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself hurtling forward, getting closer and closer to finishing. Hunter dipped his head down to suck a hickey into your neck as he kept fingering you, feeling you get closer and closer to your orgasm. 

As you felt yourself reaching your peak, you tried to let them know that you were about to come, but given that the only noises you could make were senseless babbles, they figured it out pretty quickly. Once you hit your peak, you felt your entire body clench, losing all control and surrendering to the all-consuming pleasure Hunter was giving you. It felt as if every nerve ending in your body had been set alight, blazing from head to toe, and you could do nothing but take it all in. The whole time, you could vaguely make out Hunter whispering in your ear “that’s it,” “good girl,” “you look so sexy coming all over my fucking fingers.”

Eventually, you came down from your high, trying to regulate your breathing. Crosshair leaned in and captured your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss before pulling away, looking into your eyes, and muttered, “slut” before giving you a quick kiss to the forehead. 

Once you’d fully regained control of your bodily functions, Crosshair asked, “Color?”

“Green,” you replied, eager to see what was next. 

“I think you’re finally ready for my cock, and I know your slutty pussy agrees with me,” he smirked. He looked to Hunter, who turned you around and put you on your hands and knees, ass in the air, just the way Crosshair likes it. Crosshair maneuvered himself behind you, taking in the view before giving your ass a couple good, hearty slaps that you knew would be visible come morning. Sliding the tip of his cock through your folds a few times, he eased himself into you slowly, giving your body time to adjust to him. He bottomed out for a moment before pulling out and thrusting back in again. Crosshair was known for being rough, and this was no exception. 

With every thrust, your body slid a little bit farther up the bed until your face was buried in the pillows. His grip on your hips was so strong you knew those would leave marks, too. Crosshair absolutely loved marking you up, especially in places most people wouldn’t get to see. As he pounded into you, he grabbed your hair and pulled you against his back, biting your throat and saying, “Little fucking cockslut, just waiting to be filled up and turned into a fucking cum dumpster.”

As Crosshair could feel your walls fluttering around him, he knew you were close, so he slid a hand down to your clit and rubbed precise circles over it. Before you could respond, your orgasm took you by surprise, walls clamping down over Crosshair’s cock. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own high, sending you into overstimulation. All you could do was cry out and claw at whatever parts of his body you could reach. As he reached his high, he pulled out and came on your ass, watching as your cheeks became adorned with white. 

Pulling away, Crosshair laid you back down onto the bed as Hunter approached. “Fuck, you looked so pretty coming all over his cock like that. You got one more in you?”

“Yes, please, let me come on your cock, too,” you begged. 

“Still so desperate to be filled, hmm? You want to be Hunter’s little cum dumpster?” Crosshair teased. 

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you babbled. Hunter moved you so that you were on your back with your legs over his shoulders, cock poised at your entrance when he asked, “Color?”

“Green,” you breathed. Without another word, he pushed into you, filling you up. Sure, Crosshair was longer, but Hunter was certainly thicker, and you still needed a bit of time to adjust to his size. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead as if he wasn’t buried balls deep inside you, showing his soft side.

“Fuck, you always take my cock so well,” Hunter moaned as he started to fuck you. You could feel him stretching you out, the breath getting knocked out of you with every thrust. As you lay there being repeatedly impaled on his cock, Hunter couldn’t help but reach out and wrap a hand gently around your neck. Not hard enough to actually restrict airflow, but just enough pressure to assert dominance. You, on the other hand, wanted him to choke you, so you put your hand on top of his and pushed so he would know to add pressure. He groaned and exerted a bit more pressure on your neck, adding that much more pleasure to what you were already experiencing. 

For the final time that night, you reached your high, coming all over Hunter’s cock. You could tell he was getting close, too; his thrusts were harder and more erratic. Before long, you could feel his cum filling you up as he finished inside you. Stilling inside you, Hunter tilted his head and kissed one of your legs as you smiled up at him, pussy still twitching from your orgasm. He slowly pulled out of you, taking your legs and resting them back on the bed. Crosshair came over with a damp cloth to clean you up with, and Hunter grabbed some more water for you, knowing you’d be thirsty again. 

The two of them knew how to take care of you during sex, and they made sure to pamper you afterwards. Even though you didn’t dare say it out loud, you loved the both of them so much; however, what you didn’t know was that they felt the same about you. 

[roomsofangel]

CHAPTER SEVEN

the act of holding on and letting go .ᐟ

wc 1.1k

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chapter warnings metaphor of torture. hint/talk of depression and suicidal ideation without it fully being expressed outright. y/n learns their feelings were manipulated at one point.

other with the further we get into this — the more warnings that will be more prominent — the lore and y/n uncovering everything alongside the way they all handle / go about things aren’t exactly what a healthy person would immediately go towards. ( and maybe, that one line you read in a previous chapter that didn’t seem like much, was actually a key thing for a later time x )

other 2.0 bringing my forever first baby back! i tagged those who i can remember asking to be on the taglist but no hard feelings if you want to be removed! i just deeply missed this series and it’s nowhere near done so i want to bring it back to finish it! at the moment, the masterlist was taken down so i’m in the process of redoing it so its not linked! however, click here to be directed to my old blog and the intro for this work! it’s all my work, i just moved over when that blog got shadowbanned!

“you’re absolutely fucking insane if you think i’d just sit here after hearing the stunt he pulled—“

seonghwa’s pitch and tone could make any grown man cower into submission, tears swelled up in their eyes while asking if he wanted them to bleed on his shoes or in his hands, seonghwa stared ahead focusing on hongjoong who was only speechless — how could you run into the arms that put you in harms way?

well, if he looked at it through an outsider point of view, that’s what you did with seonghwa constantly.

something told hongjoong you didn’t go to san with seductive undertones, that just wasn’t you. in every life, you still held the same morals. it was something he knew would never change.

“why did they go?” seonghwa’s voice began to lower, softly raspy when his emotions began fully processing, allowing himself to sit on the armrest chair and put his head in his hands, pushing his hair out of his face that draped over his forehead, “was it my fault?”

hongjoong shook his head, “though, i really want to say it is,” he coughed, attempting to cover the laugh he wanted to let out because he knew it wasn’t a comedic matter. “has anyone seen them?” he changed the subject, his skin crawling with unease after noticing the suffocating silence with himself and seonghwa in his living room

“besides san?” seonghwa sneered, fixing his posture before standing, dusting off imaginary dirt from his clothes, “i have to pay a visit to cupid,” he scoffed

hongjoong followed alongside, “something tells me this isn’t a usual business call,” he amused while catching up with seonghwa’s pace who made his way to the door, swiftly grabbing his car keys that hung from the wall storage hooks, “san knows all about those.”

seonghwa stopped for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to shake his head, though, his small peeking smile showed he found the reference amusing — opening the door, he swallowed his nerves.

he wanted to trust you. but how could he when you were surrounded by people he didn’t?

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the room was cold, goosebumps illuminating each part of your skin that was more exposed than the other — you curled up on the couch with a heavy weighted blanket and a mug of hot chocolate — wooyoung only seemed to have a sweet taste, everything he owned in the food department was a major hint at his severe sweet tooth

you learned wooyoung was the god of love — though, most humans knew him as cupid despite some not fully believing on his reliability and existence, he seemed warm and inviting. he made sure you changed clothes and let you keep the dagger you swiped, clutched next to you.

it didn’t make sense that wooyoung was considered an enemy.

recalling san saying he met wooyoung however, had alarms going off in your head — what was his involvement? san never elaborated on the so called help.

but it was enough for him to be punished. how did you die the first time?

“if you keep frowning like that you’ll have wrinkles,” wooyoung prompted, taking a seat across from you with a strawberry cupcake in his hand, “at least, that’s what humans say — i never had any.”

you scoffed, biting back your laugh, “how lucky you must be.”

he nodded, smiling, “i mean, yn, i’m stuck as twenty three forever,” he kept a light hearted tone and facade, but you saw through it.

his eyes screamed of something you could recall as despair — desperate for an ending, he was tired. anyone with two eyes that struggled with choosing if they should stay or go, could see he was holding on by a thread.

because right now, wooyoung may have had the brightest smile — but you saw he also had the most saddest eyes.

“how did you get involved in this?” you asked, tone soft — you hoped you didn’t overstep a boundary, but wooyoung looked back at you with understanding

clearing his throat, “san told you he came to me, didn’t he?” he amused

you nodded in response.

“it was inevitable really, if san didn’t drag me in, one of the others would’ve,” he sighed, cleaning his fingers with his lips and tongue from the frosting excess of the cupcake he finished, “i felt bad for him, he was desperate for love and specifically from you.”

frowning, heart swelling, you knew if you were going to get the full story, you had to get your hands dirty and go to those who were all involved

it wasn’t smart in a sense — but with everyone telling different sides and their point of views, it was your job to pin point the consistency and bring it altogether.

for your final life.

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“seonghwa is looking for you,” wooyoung mentioned, helping you wash the dishes — his eyes glancing to the side you resided, wet rag in hand focusing on the mug you drank from, “i can feel he’ll be here soon,” he frowned

“with hongjoong.”

your eyes lifted, attention gained fully, “do you know how long it’ll be?”

wooyoung shook his head, “i just wanted to tell you, give a heads up,” he pressed his lips together

you could see he was holding back, the same expression of wanting to say more than he was — was evident — you understood it all too well, that was your constant default.

words left unsaid.

“tell me what you want to, wooyoung,” you turned to face him

defeated, he smiled, “you made me feel human today, y/n,” his cheeks flushed and he looked away from you, “domestic even,” he teased which earned a small laugh from you

“i don’t know if i like it yet, but it’s not a bad feeling,” he briefed, finishing the last dish, “i just… want this with someone in particular..”

now this.

this was something you didn’t expect to hear.

“is it okay if i ask who?”

wooyoung laughed, “just as nosy as me, huh?” teasing, he cleared his throat and the amusement he held faded, recognizing the one thing you noticed, wanting the one thing you could never have.

“it’ll never happen, he’s been chasing after the same person for centuries,” he shook his head, “i can be blamed though.”

“i always helped him.”

then it made sense.

if wooyoung helped someone else, you weren’t aware of such — but something told you, whoever you thought of — was that person.

“why stay?” you asked

wooyoung contemplated on admitting it, tears swelling in his eyes before he whispered, “anything is better than being alone again, y/n.”

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you sat outside the porch, the talk with wooyoung left the two of you with overwhelming emotions — they weren’t directed at each other, but towards the confession and why wooyoung even got involved.

giving him time to adjust himself, you let wooyoung shower while you stared up at the full moon that shined down on you, appearing to slowly fade— nostalgic, you smiled.

you don’t know how long you had been staying with wooyoung, assuming half a night — at least, until the sunrise.

swallowing your nerves, you attempted to gather the information you received.

san didn’t give you an exact timeline but something told you he knew — you’d gather that later.

hongjoong and you had already been best friends — every life.

seonghwa was never meant to be your lover but somehow always made it happen.

and wooyoung helped san with you.

your expressions showed your progress and you couldn’t help but audibly gasp, “that fucking asshole.”

my yn never let a man control them.

“what a hypocrite you are, choi san,” you bitterly whispered under your breath

before you could stand and let wooyoung know you should be heading out soon, your nose twitched and felt a hand wrap around your wrist to pull you back

“yn, you have explaining to do.”

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